SMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


:^ 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


142  IIM 


I? 


Illll^ 

m 


1.4 


IIM 
M 

1.6 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(7)6)  872-4503 


Q- 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  canddien  de  microreproductions  historlques 


6^ 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  n  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


0 


I      i    Coloured  maps/ 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagde 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurie  et/ou  pelliculde 


Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


n 
a 


n 


D 


Cartes  g^ugraphiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

Lareliure  serree  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  int^rieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajouties 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6i6  filmdes. 

Additional  comments;/ 
Commentaires  suppl6mentaires. 


L'lnstitut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6ti  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  m^thode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqu^s  ci-dessous. 

□    Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 

□    Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^es 

□    Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaur^es  et/ou  pelliculdes 


D 
D 


(*ages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  d^colordes,  tachetdes  ou  piquees 


Pages  d^tachees 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Quality  in6gaie  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materic 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 


I      I    Showthrough/ 

I      I    Quality  of  print  varies/ 

r~n    Includes  supplementary  material/ 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata.  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6i6  film6es  d  nouveau  de  facon  A 
obtenir  la  meilleure  mage  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  filmd  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqud  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  1SX  22X 


26X 


30X 


v_ 

12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


L'exemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grdce  d  la 
g6n6rosit6  de 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avoc  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetd  de  Texemplaire  film^,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illusuatnd  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — ^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 

Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprim^e  sont  film^s  en  commengant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impre&sion  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  car}.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmds  er.  commenpant  par  la 
premid'e  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN", 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmds  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichd,  il  est  filmd  d  partir 
de  Tangle  supdrieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


t  2  3 


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1  2  3 

4  5  6 


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*4 


PREFACE. 


A  VoLtrMB  of  Sortnona  seems  hardly  to  require  any  Preface. 
The  form,  dimeneions,  topics,  and  principles  of  sach  compo- 
aitions  as  it  contains,  are  known  beforehand,  and  need  no  ex* 
planations.  Any  thing  further  runs  the  risk  of  becoming 
personal,  and  perhaps  egotistical. 

ivnd  yet,  the  author  feels  that  there  are  a  few  preliminary 
matters,  with  which  he  would  wish  his  readers  to  be  ao* 
quainted,  before  they  proceed  to  enter  on  the  volume  before 
them. 

Tlio  first,  is  the  time,  the  places,  and  perhaps,  the  circum- 
stances, connected  with  their  delireiy.  The  title  of  this  vol- 
Qme  may  lead  to  the  idea  that  the  eermons  contained  in  it 
compose  a  series  delivered  consecutively,  and  forming  a  course 
Such,  however,  is  far  from  being  the  case.  But  a  brief  ac- 
count of  these  discourses,  and  their  origin,  may  throw  some 
light  on  their  present  publication. 

So  far,  then,  from  any  unities  of  time  or  place  existing  in 
this  collection,  there  is  an  interval  of  thirty  years,  and  a  space 
of  above  a  thousand  miles,  between  the  delivery  of  some,  and 
that  of  other  sermons,  placed  side  by  side  in  this  volume. 
And  t'le  same  will  be  the  case  In  any  others  that  may  follow 
it.  Thsir  relative  positions  have  been  regulated  solely,  by 
order  of  matter. 

lixdeed.;  the  author  feels  it  necessary  to  warn  his  readers, 


4 


'*»y'^|!§B;gg| 


»pp 


^  mrAoi. 

that  most  of  what  thoy  mtUI  read,  bolongt  to  •  wmoto  dato. 
It  wa.  in  the  year  1827,  that  tho  anthor  focolvod  a  com- 
mlMlon  from  the  holy  and  .ealou.  Pontiff.  Leo.  XII,  to  preach 
in  Rome,  on  the  Sunday,  from  Adrent  to  Eaater,  the  ^a.on 
during  which  foreigner,  erowd  tho  Eternal  City.    So  honor- 
able,  but  unexpected  a  commiMion.  or  rathoi  com.nnnd, 
could  not  be  reftiMKl,  oven  at  the  expend  of  much  toil  and 
confusion.    Un.kiU«l,  and  inexperienced,  the  author  wa. 
obliged  to  feel  hi.  way.  and  moa.ure  hi.  .tcp«.  ^owly  and 
painfully.    For  many  .ucee«.lve  year.,  he  wrote  every  di^ 
L«e ;  and  having  almo.t  annually  tho  «une  audience,  could 
«,arcely  venture  on  repetition..    And  .o  the  m.«  of  manu- 
script, accumulated,  and  ha.  remained  buried  for  almoata 

*^B7dCr«!^  gw»te'  oonfldence  wa.  gained,  or  greater  fa- 
cility wa.  attained;  while  increased  occupation.,  and  lugher 
dutle.,  made  encroabhmenU  on  the  time,  which,  though 
gradually  diminiahing,  had  been  required  for  the  abor  of 
^mpo.ing  w«.Vly  dl«,ou.^.  When  thl.  practice  had 
totauTceaBed,  It  wa.  often  thought  well  to  have  .ermon.,  es- 
pecially  if  preached  for  «,me  local  purpce,  taken  down  m 
Jhort-hand,  and  either  printed.  «>on  to  dl«ippear  from  before 
the  public,  or  left  in  manu.cript  with  the  preacher. 

While,  therefore,  the  greater  number  of  wrmon.,  which  it 
ha.  been  hi.  duty  to  deliver,  have  pawed  away  for  ever  into 
oWlvlTn,  with  tl^  breath  Uiat  committed  them  to  the  hear- 
tl  and  ho  win  hope,  .ometlme.,  to  the  heart,  of  hi.  audi- 
Tcet  tho.a  which  he  now  pmume.  to  publLh  belong  to 
Te  r  other  of  the.e  two  ela«e..  of  tho.e  originally  put  i^ 
writing  by  hlmBclf,  and  tho.e  which  other,  have  had  tho 
«kill  and  goodnoM  to  prowrve. 


rRBFACI. 


to  dato. 
A  com* 
)  preach 
D  Boaton 
3  honor* 
ininand, 
toil  and 
[lor  wai 
iwly  and 
very  di*- 
CO,  could 
)f  luanu- 
almost  a 

reater  fa- 
id  higher 
I,  though 

labor  of 
stice  had 
rmons,  os- 

down  ia 
om  before 

• 

»,  which  it 
'  ever  into 
)  the  hear- 
'  his  audi- 
belong  to 
ly  put  into 
e  had  the 


Tho  particular  rcaulta  of  theae  circumitaneea,  to  which  he 
wiahea  to  call  hi«  kind  reader's  attention,  are  tho  following. 

I.  TIjo  great  bulk  of  these  sermonB  were  preadiud  in  Rome. 
This  will  be  often  evident  without  calling  special  attention 
to  this  fact.  Allmions  to  places  and  objects  in  that  city  will 
meet  tho  eyo  in  many  places.  Sometimes,  even  the  whole 
tenor  of  the  composition  will  manifest  this  circumstance. 
Indeed,  a  departure  to  another  scene  would  form  the  excep- 
tion ;  and,  where  it  influences,  in  any  way,  what  is  said,  will 
require  explanation. 

II.  The  course  of  sermons  annually  prescribed,  went  over 
a  limited  portion  of  the  year,  comprising  always  the  same 
Sundays,  the  same  feasts,  and  the  same  ecclesiastical  seasons. 
As  has  been  intimated  above,  it  commenced  which  Advent  and 
ended  with  Lent.  Hence  the  same  Gospels,  those  road  dur- 
ing a  few  months  only,  had  to  suggest  topics  for  the  sermons. 
Hence  tho  only  great  Mysteriet*  of  our  Lord,  which  the  eccle- 
siastical Calandar  brought  under  tho  contemplation  of  the 
Faithful,  were  those  of  the  Infancy  and  the  Passion.  Hit 
glorious  Resurrection,  His  admiral  Ascension,  Whitsuntide, 
Corpus  Ohristi,  never  could  enter  into  our  cycle. 

Thia  oircumstanco  must  give  a  mutilated  and  incomplete 
appearance  to  a  volume  of  discourses  on  our  Divine  Saviour 
otherwise  almost  inexplicable.  Should  the  author  be  able  to 
publish  the  Meditations,  which  he  has  prepared,  he  hopea 
that  this  defect  will  be  somewhat  remedied, 

HI.  The  audience  which  he  had  to  addrew,  was  so  pecu- 
liar, as  to  eflTect,  no  doubt,  the  oharacter  of  his  Sermons.  It 
was  not  merely  what  is  called  a  m\xfA  ftnp-  IV  ww  clearly 
divisible  into  two  most  distinct  elements.  The  eeclesiMtical 
^jomprised  all  the  religions  commwnitiea  and  colleges  speak- 


r 


•^^w 


•       *  Ptif AOI. 

Ing  English,  in  Rome, — theological  itudonta,  «nd  even  pro- 
feuoni ;  aged  and  renerabla  ■aporion  of  monaatorios,  with 
their  novicM  and  scholaatiot;  and  many  other  prioata  resi- 
dent by  choice^  or  fbr  basinoes,  in  Rome.  And  seldom  it 
that  city  without  some  Bisliop,  from  either  side  uf  the  At- 
lantic, or  fW)m  some  Colonial  See.  Tlio  secular  portion  of 
the  aadience  was  composed  of  Catholic  sojourners  in  Rome 
and  of  no  small  proportion  of  Protestants  who  were  pleased 
to  attend. 

JBnt  there  were  no  poor  \  none  of  that  crowd,  docile  and 
simple-hearted,  on  whom  a  preacher  loves  to  look  down,  with 
affection,  and  whom  he  sees  with  open  looks,  and  open  hearts, 
receiving  his  plainest  words. 

All  was  educated,  learned  ;  somewhat  formal  and  per- 
haps cold.  The  preacher  conld  not  but  feel  that  he  was  ad- 
dr«Ming  an  andience  containing  many  persons  superior  to 
himself,  in  the  very  office  which  ho  was  fulfilling,  and  en- 
tirely made  np  of  a  class  which  claimed  the  rights  of  social 
position,  tojudgehimby  their  own  standards,  and  over  which 
he  conld  not  exercise  the  prerogative  of  a  pastor  or  a  master. 

Under  these  circumstances,  he  was  constrained  both  in  the 
choice,  and  in  the  handling  of  his  topics,  to  select  an  almost 
neutral  conrse,  so  as  not  to  weary  with  controversy  the  eru- 
dite Catholic  portion  of  his  audience ;  nor  to  enter  too  deep- 
ly into  the  feeling  subjects  which  none  but  Catholics  could 
understand  or  appreciate;  nor  finally  to  throw  himself  into 
that  affectionat6neM  of  address  which  the  poor  and  simple 
alone  amoifg  Catholics  conld  have  felt  and  enjoyed. 

Perhaps  the  i^inguUrity  of  his  position  may  bo  reflected  on 
the  following  disconrees.  If  so,  let  this  plain  and  unvar- 
nished statement  serve  to  explain  the  canse. 


fa*M.>^.....i«<M-i.    ■-,,  ., 


-f*ii'f  r  w'li^  I  isiMi 


i 


isclf  into 

' 

d  simple 

lected  on 

d  unvap* 

' 

♦ 

—"—n 

PBBFAOI.  ^  T 

IT.  It  in»y  eully  h^e  hiipponed  tli»t  thonghti  md  lllu»- 
tratlont  rocur  In  termoni  now  brought  togetlior  by  tlmn* 
•rity  of  tubjeot*.  Withoal  wishing  to  ■jiulogiM  for  what 
may  have  »ri»cn  in  thii  ro«pect,  from  poverty  of  thonght,  it 
ii  fair  to  obicrve,  that  two  ■crmoot,  exhibiting  tnoh  reaem- 
blancoi,  or  even  Idcntltloi,  may  have  been  delivered  at  aii  in- 
terval of  twenty  years,  ono  perhaps  in  Italy,  and  the  other  in 
England.  The  reader,  bearing  this  in  mind,  will,  no  doubt, 
exercise  a  lenient  judgment,  upon  making  such  discovery. 

V.  But  for  another,  which  he  ia  sore  to  mako,  the  author 
can  offer  no  deprecatory  excuse.  It  is  impossible  to  have 
preserved  throughout,  unifo.mity  of  style  and  manner.  Oor 
IVame,  our  features,  our  complexion,  our  voice,  cannot  re- 
main the  same  through  thirty  years;  and  no  more  can 
that  style  which  forms  the  physiognomy  of  our  writing.  It 
takes  its  character  from  our  occupations,  our  society,  onr 
health ;  it  matches  iu  color  and  hue  from  the  objects  that 
surround  us,  the  very  atmosphere  which  wo  breathe,  from 
the  authors  whom  we  happen  to  be  chiefly  reading,  and 
from  A  thousand  unapprcciable  influences. 

Now,  as  these  discourses  are  not  arranged  chronologically, 
there  will  be  found  no  gradual  transition,  no  sliding  ftom 
one  style  of  writing  to  another,  as  age  advanced  •  but  there 
may  be  found  sudden  plunges  from  one  characteristic  man- 
ner of  composition  to  another,  very  different.  If  so,  again, 
let  it  be  observed,  that  no  attempt  at  excuse  is  made.  The 
author  knows,  that  at  every  period  of  his  litemry  life,  ho  has 
tried  to  write  naturally,  and  nntrtlficially ',  and,  that  if  any 
thing  of  A  contrary  nature  appear,  he  has  been  nnconscions 
of  it  at  the  time ;  and  that  he  has  always  been  more  intent 
on  what  he    nght  to  say,  than  how  he  had  best  say  it 


I 


I  rixrACK. 

Gr»dn»ny,  bowerer,  1i«  obtcrroi  with  rogrot  that  hli  Prcf- 
M«  Mflmi  to  liftvo  been  growing  ajxilogtitic.  Tlii«  wii«,  by 
no  tnoAua,  hi*  purport  or  duaign.  IIo  fct-U  tliat  ho  bus  no 
right  to  aaauino  iuch  n  tone.  Tho  ruipomibilitiM  of  »  work 
do  not  weigh  on  tho  time  of  it*  coin|)oi«ltion,  but  on  tlmt  of 
iU  publication.  lUd  thoio  icrmoni  ilopt  tlioir  Horatiiin  n«>- 
vennium  in  tho  writer'a  doilc,  to  ir  eivo  periodical  ruvisioim, 
omcndationii,  and  tioinhlng  touchoa,  tho  intervening  period 
between  compoalng  and  publishing  might  bo  well  pleaded 
in  juttifioation  of  delay. 

IJut  hero  tliere  is  no  such  oxcuw.  Tlioao  diocouracs  conio 
forth  with  all  tlioir  early  faults,  their  very  original  sin  upon 
their  head.  Tlicy  havo  gained  nothing  ccrUinly  by  their 
prolonged  suppression.  Even  tho  most  indulgent  reader 
may  feel  justiflod  in  asking:  "What  ha»  induced  you  to 
publish  them  now  I"  To  this  question  tho  author  docs  not 
find  it  easy  to  reply.  Ho  moy  throw  before  him,  as  his 
strongest  shield  of  dofoncc,  the  long-expressed  and  frcquently- 
rcpcatcd  solicitation  of  friends,  who  still  retain  a  sufficiently 
favorable  recollection,  to  express  a  dosiro  of  reading  what 
they  have  formerly  hoard. 

But  this  is  hardly  enough  to  excuse  a  prcsuinptous  act. 
Ho  therefore  candidly  acknowledges  that  another,  and  ho 
hopes,  a  better  motive  has  seconded  those  kind  demands  up- 
on him.  Conscious,  as  ho  is  beforehand,  of  the  many  dofccta 
which  will  bo  found  in  this  publication ;  sensible  of  many 
motiveo  which  ought  to  doter  him  from  his  design,  ho  yet 
fools  impelled  to  undertake  this  work,  by  a  desire  of  doing 
something  for  souls. 

All  good  gifts  come  from  God,  who  distributes  them  ac- 
cording to  His  blessed  will.  Ono  preacher  touches  ono  chord, 


t 


hi*  Pri'f- 
•  wii»,  by 
1)0  lius  no 
>f  a  work 

DO  ttllit  of 

rati  All  no- 
rQvi«iotitt 
tig  jwriod 
II  plondud 

rftos  come 
■in  upon 
[»  by  Ihoir 
int  roador 
od  you  to 
r  doca  not 
iin,  as  luB 
frcquently- 
mffloiently 
ding  what 


PRBfAOI.  V 

and  anotliof  another.  Each  girwi  forth  tlio  iamo  voiro  of 
truth ;  yet  tho  Aliniglity  dintrihutor  t-inploya  each  m  bi-at  it 
|i!ua«cth  Jlira.  Is  it  not  poMlhie  that  things  said  ono  wny 
may  produce  a  »alutary  cflfcct,  where  ovon  bettor  thlnga, 
bettor  laid,  have  failed  I  And  uliould  not  each  of  ut  atriva 
to  bo  uaeful  in  hit  day,  according  to  tho  muall  ntcaaure  of 
power  which  hia  Maater  has  left  him  ?  May  tho  writer  bury 
what  he  haa,  bocauae  ho  haa  only  a  ».o|jlo  talent,  while  ao 
many  other*  have  received  five  or  ton  t 

Let  him  not,  then,  be  reprehended,  if  now,  after  many 
joara,  he  diaintor  it,  and  try  to  ptit  it  out  i  >  uaury.  On  tho 
contrary,  lot  tho  charitable  trader  pray  to  (Jod  for  him,  and 
hia  work,  begging  that  He  will  bloaa  them  both :  tho  ono, 
that  ho  may  not  bo  rejected  aa  a  uaeleaa  aervant ;  tho  other, 
that,  in  apitc  of  Ilia  husbandman's  u n worth ineaa,  being  tho 
aecd  of  Ilia  own  Word,  it  may  produco  fruit  a  hundredfold. 

Lohdoh:  PmIoo  Wook,  ISOi. 


iptoua  act. 
er,  and  ho 
imanda  ni>- 
any  defeeta 
lo  of  many 
ign,  ho  yet 
re  of  doing 

OS  tliem  ac- 
i  ono  chord, 


\ 


;MWc;ajiiasga»»»t*aW'*v;a«ti*jjj«»»«*»uj!iiii-»«tit  i   '  n^' 

r 


/ 


CONTENTS. 


\ 


aBMOt 

I.  On  TBI  Incarnation  and  Birtb  or  Jxsui  Chrmt. 
II.  On  thb  Epipuanv 

III.  OcR  Saviour  in  thc  Tckpli. 

IV.  Tub  Holt  Nahr  or  Jbsus.        .        . 
V.  Thb  Two  Great  Mtstkribs  or  Levi. 

VI.  Thabor  and  Olivet.      «... 
VII.  On  Couino  to  Jesub  roR  Refreshment. 
VIII.  On  the  Character  and  SurrsRiNOs  or  Christ  in 
His  Passion       .       .        . 
IX.  Of  the  Scandal  or  Christ. 
X.  Trtduphs  or  the  Cross. 
XL  Meditation  on  the  Passion. 
XIL  On  beino  or  Christ's  bide. 

XIII.  On  Temptation. 

XIV.  The  Kingdom  or  Christ 
XV.  Devotiqit*  70  the  Blessed  Virgin. 

XVI.  Vbheratiun  or  the  Blessed  Virgin. 
XVn,  On  the  MATBRNirr  or  the  Blessed  VnourV  . 


It 


CONTENTS. 


^ 


APPENDIX. 


m. 


PAOTORALS  ON  DEVOTION  TO  THE  SACRED  HEART  OF  JESUS 
CHRIST,  IN  CONNECTION  WITH  EDUCATION. 

rAOC 
8U9 

381 

888 

807 
402 

413 


I.  Ok  tii»  Sacrbd  Heart 

II.  On  tub  Mvstkriks  or  Tint  Sacukd  IIkakt. 

III.  On  thb  Firk  of  the  Sacked  Ukart.        .        .        • 

IV.  On  the  Most  Precious  Blood  of  the  Heart  of 

OUR  Lord  Jesus  Christ 

v.  On  the  Education  of  the  Heart  of  Jesus.     . 
VI.  Inetitution  or  the  Forty  Hours'  Adohation  of 
OUB  liORU  u»  THE  Blebsed  Eucharist,  1849. 


■f 


* 

•IS 


% 


lt.l» 


$ 


'•vMMMEMflMia 


i 


mmmfimt^'"  n^  i     i       ■ 


^  ."V.  ■■w 


)F  JESUS 

rAOB 

• 

8U9 

• 

381 

• 

388 

)F 

• 

307 

a 

402 

OT 


413 


«l» 


SEflMON  I. 
m  iU  ijnarnntion  ana  iirtb  of  i<Kiu$  <!l^liH0t 

Lmx,  ill.  6. 
"  And  all  fledx  duOl  see  Uie  Mdvation  of  God." 

Two  days  more,  my  brethren,  will  bring  iia  to  that 
festival— fountain  of.  all  Christian  joy — ^for  which  the 
Gharch  has  prepared  us  through  the  season  of  Advent. 
In  that  admirable  spirit  which  has  been  maintained  in 
her  from  the  beginning,  she  has  announced  to  us  the 
coming  solemnity  with  the  same  vivid  pkrase,  aa  she 
might  have  been  supposed  to  use,  had  the  event  we  are 
going  to  commemorate  been  about  actually  to  happen. 
Not  only  have  the  gospels  of  this  preparatory  season 
pi-esented  us  with  the  preaching  of  the  precursor  John, 
but  all  her  prayers  and  offices  have  spoken  to  va  of  the 
Son  of  God  as  about  to  be  born  for  our  salvation.  At 
the  beginning  of  the  time,  she  called  upon  us  to  adore 
the  Lord  who  is  preparing  to  come ;  as  we  approached 
its  term  she  changed  her  invitation  to  the  more  cheering 
notice  that  the  Lord  was  nigh  ;•  her  prayere  expressed 
alternately  a  hope  of  His  speedy  appearance,  and  a  fear 
lest  the  sins  of  His  people  might  delay  it ;  and  thus  our 
affections  have  been  carried  back  through  eighteen 
pentui'ies  to  that  truer  standard  of  feelings,  which 

*  "Regem  ve&turam  Dominom,— Prope  est  jun  j^nriniu,  venite  adoie- 
mna.*'— /ncifotmo  is  Advent. 


^    ^-^ 


"<»9WI 


14 


THE  INOARNATIOIf   AND 


closer  attendance  on  the  mysteries  of  Christ's  incania- 
tion  and  birth  would  have  procured  us. 

This,  undoubtedly,  is  the  best  and  most  satisfjictoiy 
point  from  which  to  view  the  mysteries,  whether  joy- 
ful or  sorrowful,  of  our  redemption.  Their  effects,  it 
is  true,  have  no  limit  in  time,  and  their  saving  influ- 
ence upon  our  souls  is  as  great  and  as  effectual  as  it 
could  be  upon  those  that  witnessed  them.  The  blood 
of  Jesus  is  able  to  cleanse  our  stains,  upon  which  it 
mystically  descends,  as  much  as  those  of  Magdalen, 
or  any  others  of  the  pious  attendants  on  His  cross,  upon 
whom  it  actually  was  sprinkled.  Yet  who  envies  them 
not  that  pang  of  killing  sorrow— that  heart-burating 
contrition— and  that  mournful  love,  which  none  but 
they  could  ever  feel  ? 

The  love  of  our  infant  Saviour  was  as  much  dis- 
played for  us  as  for  the  happy  shepherds  of  Bethle- 
hem ;  for  us  as  well  as  for  them.  He  bore  the  cold  and 
destitution  of  that  His  first  night,  and  angels  sung  peace 
to  men,  and  to  God  gloiy  on  our  behalf,  no  less  than 
on  theirs  that  heard  them.    Yet  who  is  not  jealous  of 
that  prerogative  which  they  had,  of  gazing  on  the  god- 
like smile  of  that  blessed  Infant,  and  feeling  that  inten- 
Bity  of  purest  joy,  which  the  sight  of  Him  under  such 
circumstances  could  alone  inspire  ?    And  if  the  service 
of  God  hath  a  right  to  man's  heart  as  much  as  to  hi» 
understanding— and  if  the  affections  when  given  to 
Him,  should  be  brought  as  nigh  as  possible  to  the  full 
measure  of  their  object,  surely  we  shaU  do  well  to  med- 
itate upon  the  mysteries  now  before  us,  with  as  much  of 
that  fervent  piety  and  devout  affection,  as  may  be  sup- 
posed  to  have  inspired  those  who  actually  beheld  them, 


II  ^1.  I  «<l»«.*iii  ■■!«*■  I. 'ilifci  iiiP  wi|«JlirU>lliH— MOittiifcw 


H«Mai«nriHMMMnMtMnMMii«wvr 


/ 


T 


incarna* 

ifrtctoiy 
her  joy- 
ffects,  it 
3g  influ- 
ual  as  it 
le  blood 
vhich  it 
Eigdalen, 
)8S,  upon 
ies  them 
burating 
oue  but 

luch  «3i8- 
'  Bethle- 
cold  and 
ng  peace 
ess  than 
ealous  of 
the  god- 
lat  inii;en- 
tder  such 
le  service 
as  to  hi» 
given  to 
0  the  full 
11  to  med- 
3  much  of 
ly  be  sup- 
leld  them. 


BIBTH   OF  "jBSUB  CHRIST. 


16 


When  the  Jew  was  told  that  be  should  see  the  saU 
vation  of  God,  what  idea  would  this  phrase  naturally 
suggest  to  him  1    One  great  act  of  salvation  or  redemp- 
tion, wrought  by  the  hand  of  Almightiness,  ho  held 
recorded  in  his  rnnals ;  and  it  conveyed  to  him  the 
idea  of  terrible  and  resistless  power.    Storms  of  hail, 
and  darkness  sensible  to  the  touch;  the  fields  blighted 
by  devouring  locusts,  and  the  houses  infested  by  intol- 
erable reptiles ;  the  rivers  running  with  blood,  and  the 
chambere  of  all  the  first-born  defiled  with  their  corpses : 
such  were  the  forerunners  of  the  great  salvation  of 
God's  people.    The  waters  of  the  Red  Sea  divided ; 
the  chariot-wheels  of  Pharaoh  overthrown ;  an  army 
with  its  royal  leader  swallowed  up  in  the  billows :  such 
was  its  conduct,  and  such  the  means  whereby  it  was 
eflfected.    Or  if  the  same  Jew  sought  for  precedents  in 
his  history,  of  how  a  new  law  was  to  be  presented  to 
the  world,  he  would  find  only  the  terrors  of  Sinai,  its 
clouds  and  lightnings,  and  the  voice  of  God's  trumpet 
proclaiming  his  commands  to  an  affrighted  people. 

But  now  that  God  is  about  to  come  and  set  free  His 
inheritance,  not  from  one  tyrant,  but,  as  the  Jew  sup- 
posed, from  his  numerous  and  far  mightier  oppressors,—- 
now  that  His  Idngdom  has  to  be  established,  not  within 
the  narrow  limits  of  Palestine,  but  from  sea  to  sea,  from 
the  river  to  the  uttermost  bounds  of  the  earth, — now 
that  His  law  has  to  be  heai^,  not  by  a  few  thousand, 
that  can  lie  prostrate  round  the  foot  of  a  single  moun- 
tain, but  by  Greeks  and  barbarians,  Romans,  Parthians, 
Elemytes,  and  Medes,  what  new  series  of  proportionate 
wonders  and  signs  can  He  have  in  store  that  will  fall 
short  of  the  destruction  of  visible  nature  I    If  before, 


V 


■A 


I 


le 


IHB  INCAUNATION    AND 


He  touched  the  mountains  nnd  they  Buioked,  and  the 
rocks  melted  away  through  ftur.  what  will  it  be  when 
He  comes  from  the  south,  and  the  holy  one  from  Mount 
Pharan,  but  that  as  the  prophet  Ilabacuc  describes  it, 
nations  should  be  melted,  and  the  ancient  mountmns 
crushed  to  pieces,  and  the  entire  deep  should  put  forth 
its  voice  and  lift  up  its  hands?  (cap.  iii.) 

No,  the  understanding  of  man  could  have  formed  no 
estimate  of  that  display  of  magnificence  which  cons.ste 
in  abasement,  or  of  that  exhibition  of  might  which  acts 
in  silence  and  without  sensible  effort.    3l-ven  m  the 
visible  world  there  is  as  much  of  power,  and  more  of 
glorious,  because  beneficent,  exercise  thereof,  in  one 
drop  of  dew,  that  refreshes  and  helps  to  form  the 
flower  hidden  in  the  grass,  than  there  is  in  the  earth- 
quake  that  overthrows  the  solidest  works  of  «ian  a 
hand:  and  yet  the  one  passes  unheeded,  while  the 
latter  fills  nations  with  amazement.     And  so  is  there 
more  of  marvel,  of  grandeur,  and  of  glory  in  that  silent 
descent  of  the  Eternal  Word  on  earth,  "as  the  rm 
upon  the  fleece,  and  as  showei-s  falling  genl^'  «pon  the 
earth"  (Ps.  Ixxi.  6),  than  there  could  have  been  in  the 
utmost  extension  of  His  almighty  arm. 

In  fact,  my  brethren,  it  is  matter  of  mere  human  pru- 
dence  and  reasonable  calculation,  to  proportion  the 
means  employed  to  the  greatness  of  the  ends  proposed. 
Even  in  things  beyond  our  reach  we  can  estimate  this 
ratio.  When  we  know  that  God  hath  taken  an  enter- 
prise in  hand— when  He  hath  pledged  Hib  power  to 
its  success,  we  can  be  sui-prised  at  nothing  more. 
Whether  it  be  the  destruction  of  armies  by  one  night  s 
pestUence,  or  the  overthrow  of  a  city's  walls  by  a  trum- 


l<l«ui>iii.iO»ii"i*ii  .ji'Hiii  iH'ii  i' 


MHMMMMM 


-V<^ 


I 


BIRTH   OF  JESUa  CHRIST. 


it 


and  the 
je  when 

I  Mount 
jribes  it, 
ountnins 
)ut  forth 

rmed  no 

consists 

hich  acts 

II  in  the 
L  more  of 
',  in  one 
brm  the 
he  earth- 
of  man's 
vhile  the 

is  there 

hat  silent 

the  raia 

upon  the 

len.  in  tHe 

Liman  pru- 
rtion  the 
proposed, 
imate  this 
I  an  enter- 
power  to 
ing  more. 
)ne  night's 
by  a  trum- 


pet's sound,  we  cease  to  be  astonished :  we  are  prepared 
for  any  results  when  power  unlimited  is  wielded.     But 
for  the  suppression  of  all  manifestation  of  power,  when 
the  most  astonishing  energies  of    Omnipotence   are 
called  forth,  we  could  not,  by  human  reasoning,  have 
been  prepared.    To  have  been  told  that  the  conception 
of  an  infant  in  the  bosom  of  its  mother,  should  be  a 
more  wonderful  work  than  the  creation  of  other  exist- 
ing beings,  and  should  procure  more  glory  for  God, 
and  display  all  His  attributes  more,  than  when  suns 
innumerable,  with  their  systems,  bui-st  into  light  and 
motion,  would  have  involved  at  once  a  disproportion 
between  the  end  and  the  apparent  means,  which  would 
take  the  work  out  of  the  reach  of  man's  undei-standing, 
and  distinguish  it  as  truly  God's.     And  if  we  should 
go  on  to  hear,  that  in  that  Infant's  birth  was  to  be  ac- 
complished the  destinies  of  four  thousand  years  which 
had  preceded  it,  and  prepared  the  blessing  and  happi- 
ness of  as  many  generations  as  may  follow  it ;  that 
whatever  had  been  said  or  done  glorious  and  great  till 
then  was  all  for  its  sake ;  still  more  if  we  should  learn 
that  in  that  Child  were  united  all  the  attributes  of  the 
Godhead  in  their  unlimited  perfection,  we  must  needs ' 
be  overpowered  with  astonishment,  and  feel  how  unar 
ble  we  are  to  comprehend,  or  to  search  into,  the  miracles 
of  God's  power. 

All  these  mysteries  are  comprised  by  St.  John  in 
these  solemn  words :— "  And  the  Word  was  made  flesh, 
ftuci  dwelt  amongst  us,  and  we  saw  His  glory,  the  glory 
as  it  were  of  the  only  begotten  Son  of  the  Father,  full 
of  grace  and  truth."  (i.  14.)  From  this  we  learn  that 
the  Word,  that  is  the  second  person  in  the  adorable 


It 


TUS  IMOARNATION   AND 


Trinity,  who  wm  "  in  th«  bfginnlnof  with  God,  Rnd  wwi 
Himself  God,"  took  to  Himself  this  our  mortal  flesh, 
ftSHumiiig  the  nature  of  man,  so  na  to  unite  the  twofold 
iioture  of  God  and  man  in  one  pemon ;  that  He  was 
horn  into  the  world  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary ;  and 
growing  up  to  man's  eatate,  convei-sed  among  men,  till 
by  His  death  He  wrought  the  salvation  of  mankind. 

There  are  plant«,*my  brethren,  which  live  for  many 
years  without  producing  a  single  blo8Sora,<=-their  lot 
aeems  to  be  one  of  barren  growth;   generations  of 
leaves  bud  forth,  flourish  and  wither ;  new  stalks  and 
branches  sprout  from  year  to  year ; — still  no  indication 
is  seen  of  those  fairer  oniaments  which  form  the  crown 
and  glory  of  the  vegetable  world,— no  flower  no  prom- 
ise of  fruit.     At  length  the  slow  preparation  of  many 
years  is  brought  to  light ;  its  flower  appears :  a  few 
houi-n  of  transient  beauty  and  honor  repay  past  and 
tedious  cultivation:  anc  with  the  production  of  its 
long-matured  growth,  the  destinies  of  the  plant  are 
closed,  it  withers  to  rise  no  more.    Is  it  wonderful, 
then,  that  so  many  yeai-s  of  preparation  should  have 
been  ieeraed  necessary,  before  the  earth  opened  and 
budded  salvation,  and  "the  flower  rose  from  the  root 
of  Jesse"  (Is.  xi.  1) ;  and  that,  not  to  close  mankiad's 
existence,  but  to  open  to  it  a  brighter  and  endless  era 
of  happiness?    It  seemed  necessary  that  the  earth 
should  eara  the  blessing  that  was  to  be  bestowed. 
And  how  ?    Even  as  one  that  is  poor,  gains  more  com- 
passionate relief  by  the  helplessness  of  his  destitution ; 
even  as  the  sick  or  wounded  wins  for  himself  more 
tender  attention  by  the  grievousness  of  his  distemper, 
by  the  hideousneaft  of  his  sores.    And  so  it  seemed 


l<iMl  llW II     I' 


k»*« 


/ 


BIRTH   OP  JERU8  CHRIST. 


10 


od,  And  WAS 
lortHi  flosb, 
the  twofold 
hat  Hh  was 
Mary;  and 
ng  men,  till 
'  mankind, 
ve  for  many 
i,<=-their  lot 
aerations  of 
V  stalks  and 
to  indication 
n  the  crown 
rev  no  prom- 
ion  of  many 
lears:  a  few 
ay  past  and 
iction  of  its 
ie  plant  are 
b  wonderful, 
should  have 
opened  and 
rom  the  root 
le  mankiad*s 
1  endless  era 
it  the  earth 
>e  bestowed, 
as  more  com- 
}  destitution ; 
limself  more 
is  distemper, 
}o  it  seemed 


proper  to  give  full  time  for  all  the  evils  of  a  corrupted 
heart  to  mature,  .nnd  all  the  growing  diflacnlties  of 
indebted  nature  to  accumulate,  and  all  the  excesses  of 
audacious  passions  to  run  riot  to  their  utmost  length : 
till  human  remedies  should  have  been  pronounced 
powerless,  and  the  most  sanguine  hopes  declared  bank- 
rupt, and  all  moral  curbs  and  restraints  had  been  either 
broken  or  cast  loose,  or  borne  away  in  impetuous 
course.  It  was  proper,  too,  to  give  leisure  for  all  hu- 
man power  and  wisdom  to  try  its  skill  upon  the  evils 
that  broke  down  prostrate  humanity,  to  see  what  the 
hand  of  iron  rule  could  do  towards  checking  the  vio- 
lence of  lawless  aims,  and  what  the  milder  counsels  of 
aged  wisdom  could  effect  in  taming  the  boisterous 
passions,  or  in  unravelling  the  perplexities  of  man's 
nature,  that  seemed  to  have  produced  them.  All  had 
been  tried,  and  all  had  failed.  Every  empire  that  had 
striven  to  subdue  men  by  might,  had  stirred  up  to 
higher  excitement  the  woret  of  human  passions,  and 
had  deranged  still  further  the  moral  order ;  every  new 
sect  of  boasted  wisdom  had  confused  more  fearfully 
the  simple  principles  of  duty,  and  often  darkened 
rather,  when  it  desired  to  give  light. 

Such  are  the  moments  when  the  Almighty  loves  to 
step  in,  so  to  come  between  the  creature  and  its  despair, 
and  show  His  power  when  it  may  be  undistinguishable 
fi-om  His  goodness.  He  would  not  deliver  Israel  from 
bondage,  till  intolerable  hardships  and  crushing  op- 
pression had  rendered  it  without  hope.  (Exod.  ii.  28.) 
When  Essechias  was  beyond  human  cure,  and  had  said, 
"  in  the  midst  of  my  days  I  shall  go  the  gates  of  hell" 
(Is.  xxxviii.  5),  He  added  fifteen  years  to  his  life. 


to 


Tint  INCABNATION    AND 


When  tho  8i«teni  of  T^zartiH  anked  Him  to  cur«  their 
sick  brother,  H«  allowed  him  to  die  thnt  Ui«  heneiit 
luiKht  be  more  Hignnl,  in  raising  their  dead  than  in 
healing  their  sick.  (Jo.  xi.  14.)     And  ho  in  this  more 
grievous  distrefw  of  all  mankind,  lie  willed  not  that 
men  Hhould  be  able  to  say,  "our  mighty  hand,  and  not 
the  Lord,  hath  done  all  thew  things"  (Deut.  xxxii. 
27) ;  and  therefore  having  given  them  omple  space  to 
exhaust  all  their  resources,  He  relieves  us  at  once,  ia 
a  manner  as  simple  as  it  is  wonderful,  as  mighty  as  it 
is  divested  of  splendor.     God  had  been  oflfended  and 
must  be  appeased ;  man  had  fallen  and  must  be  raised : 
such  were  the  two  objects  to  be  attained.    The  re- 
quired propitiation  was  for  man ;  who  but  mon  could 
be  called  upon  to  perform  it?    The  infinite  distance 
between  him  and  the  offended  Being,  and  the  added 
infirmity  and  worth'  ssness  of  his  fallen  nature,  dis- 
qualified  hira  completely  for  attempting  it :  who  but 
God  could  pupply  his  deficiency  ?     By  this  marvellous 
contrivance  of  Divine  wisdom — by  the  union  of  God 
and  man  in  one  pereon — by  the  coalition  of  the  guilty 
nature  with  the  infinitely  powerful,  all  was  reconciled  ; 
the  debtor  in  person  discharged  his  obligations  with 
the  riches  communicated  by  the  creditor  himself.    No 
sacrifice  was  made  of  one  just  claim  to  another — no 
compromise  required  between  the  harnionious  attri- 
butes of  God ;  justice  received  its  due,  told  in  sordid 
value  to  its  utmost  tittle ;  mercy  stretched,  unrestricted 
and  unembarrassed,  its  all-embracing  arms;  power  ex» 
erted  its  might  with  unlimited  magnificsnce ;  ond  gra- 
ciousness  and  love  triumphed  in  a  new  display  of  un- 
exampled oondescensioD. 


/ 


inKTii  or  j»*irM  OIIKIAT. 


3t 


to  cure  their 
t  Hit  heutiiit 
end  than  iu 
in  this  more 
led  not  that 
and,  and  nut 
(I)eut.  xxxii. 
I  pie  Mpacti  to 
18  at  once,  ia 
mighty  as  it 
offended  and 
j8t  be  raised : 
ed.     The  re- 
nt man  could 
nite  distance 
nd  the  added 
a  nature,  dis- 
it:  who  but 
is  marvellouB 
mion  of  God 
of  the  guilty 
IS  reconciled ; 
ligations  with 
himself.     No 
another — no 
licnious  attri* 
old  in  sordid 
I,  unrestricted 
IS ;  power  ex» 
nee ;  and  gra- 
iisplay  of  oo* 


Moreover,  see  what  immense  advantages  attended 
this  exercise  «f  ihnW  \H)wer  I     (^mI  hath  appeared  to 
us;   we  know  Him  no  h»nger  in  the  abstract,  or  by 
conjecture,  but  as  vihible,  as  like  to  ourselves,— in  the 
form    which   we    habitually   love.      He   can  be  our 
friend,  one  that  hath  partaken  of  our  infirmities,  that 
hath  been  tempted  like  unto  us,  that  hath  suffered 
mjrrow  and  tasted  death.     H.»w  much  lighter,  too, 
nnwt  hirt  coinmonds  appear,  8iH)ken  as  they  were  by 
*  human  mouth!     Whei.  God  thundered  forth  His 
law  on   Hinai,  the   people   entreated   Moses,  saying, 
"speak  thou  to  us,  and  we  will  hear:   let  not  the 
Ix)r«l    speak    to  us,  lest  we  die."      (Exod.  xx.  19.) 
And  so,  how  raildened  must  not  oil  the  precepts  of 
the  New    I^w  appear  to  us,  whan  proceetling  from 
the  lips  of  one  so  meek,  so  gentle,  so  atI*ectiouate  in 
our  regard  I 

Still  moi*e  consoling  is  the  consideration  of  the  sub- 
lime dignity  to  which  we  have  l)een  raised  by  the  in- 
carnation of  the  Son  of  God.     If  He  stooped  low,  in- 
deed, to  accomplish  it,  He  exalted  us  prop*utionably 
high.     Our  nature  subsiste  in  the  Gotlhead,  and  sit- 
teth  at  the  i-ight  hand  of  God,  elevated  above  the  an- 
gelic spirits,  whose  nature  He  did  not  assume.    Oh, 
the  immensity  of  the  Divine  wisdom  and  power  which 
are    comprehended    in     this    inestimable    mystery! 
What  should  we  have  been  without  it  ?     Poor  earth- 
born  creatures,  condemned  for  ever  to  creep  upon  the 
surface  of  this  world,  or  aspire,  with  ineffectual  efforts, 
after  that  higher  state  from  which  we  had  fallen! 
Oh,  how  foolish   is  the   wisdom  of  this   world,  its 
tiobleat  conceptions,  its  sublimest   meditations,  com- 


1 


tt  TUB  UIOAftXATlON    AND 

p«rtd  with  ita  grtndoort  How  Iniu1«nt]«tf  U  mma^ 
mtnd  to  comprehonil  it,  now  tiiat  it  lift.  '»«««.  r«ve»ied 
to  him  I  how  much  mor«  heyotul  tho  ixboh  »f  hii  aa- 
ticipfttiont  l>«fore  it  cmn«  to  immnI  \  my«t«ry  in  f»ct 
it  iis  «Ih)vo  the  sphere  of  •ngeli',  m  much  «•  of  raen't, 
thoughts ! 

But  hitherto  wo  wem  to  h»ve  confined  our  atten- 
tion mainly  to  the  T)ivine  energy  that  planned  and 
executed  this  wonderful  myntery ;  it  were  time  that 
we  turned  our  thoughts  to  Ilini  who  is  its  object; 
ond  if  in  the  flitt  view  it  has  seemed  to  us  a  mystery 
of  wisdom  and  power,  it  will  henceforth  appear  to  as 
a  still  greater  mystery  of  goodness  and  love.     I^et  us, 
for  this  purpose,  draw  nt^r  to  the  birthplace  of  this 
incarnate  Word  of  God,  and  meditate  upon  his  first 
appearance  amongst  us.     See   then  how  Mary,  con- 
ducted  by  Joseph,  undertakes  a  toilsome   winter's 
journey  to  Bethlehem,  the  city  of  David.    The  em- 
peror has  commanded  all  to  be  enrolled  in  their  own 
city  or  town ;  and  this  blessed  couple  are  obeying  the 
Iftw.     Perhaps  of  all  that  travel  towards  the  royal 
city,  none  fn  r>    d<»8titute   and   helpless  as  they. 
Every  one  pi».»<«<'  ^'"' ■  on  tho  way;  und  when  they 
reach  their  j.\.ni'^y'h  jnd,  every  lodging  has  been  oc- 
cupied, and  they  have  no   resource  left  them  but  a 
miserable  stable.    Into  this  they  retire,  anl  there,  in 
the  silence  of  the  night,  Mary  gives  birth  to  her  first- 
bom,  Jesus. 

When  the  heir  to  a  throne  is  born,  proclamation  if 
forthwith  made  to  ito  subjects  of  the  joyful  event,  that 
they  may  attest  theur  loyalty.  And  accordingly,  her* 
the  heralds  of  Heaven  descend,  and  communicat«  tht 


>t«  Im  wm*t 

.>f  hia  an* 
\U3Ty  in  fact 
lis  of  raen'a, 

I  onr  atten* 
launed  and 
u  time  that 

its  object; 
t  a  mystery 
Lppeai'  to  nt 
ve.  I^t  us, 
)lace  of  this 
;)oa  his  first 

Mary,  con* 
me  winter's 
1.  The  em- 
n  thi'ir  own 
obeying  the 
s  tbo  royal 
it»  as  they. 
.  when  they 
has  been  oo- 
them  but  ft 
%t.\  there,  in 

to  her  firit- 

>clamatton  is 
il  event,  that 
rdingly,  ber« 
munioAta  ths 


BiuTii  or  iiKua  oiiBivr. 


98 


glad  Udicgi  to  a  fi*w  shepiierds,  who  seek  the  spot 
daterib«d  to  them,  and  fltid  tLi>  ChiUI. 

The  feelings  of  the  p-incipnl  ^ctors  in  the  moving 
scenes  oi*  our  8aviourV  first  night,  aro  almost  too  sacred 
for  us  to  attempt  to  analyse  them.  If  u  woman,  wImmi 
■he  hath  brought  forth,  hath  joy,  as  our  L^nd  asm  cs 
m  (Jo.  xvi.  21),  what  cuwt  have  b«'<'n  hern,  who  was 
tlio  first  on  earth  to  l(K>k  upon  the  face  of  God's 
Chriut,  not  only  matlo  man,  but  l)econio  her  Son  ?  Her 
pleasing  duty  it  was  to  take  Ilim  into  ber  arms  and 
warm  His  trembling  limbs,  and  swathe  them,  and  th^n 
feast  her  eyes,  through  the  long  winter's  night,  upon 
His  sweet  and  smiling  countenance.  Ah  !  what  would 
gilded  roofs  or  painted  palaces  have  been  to  her  that 
bight,  in  ejcchange  fur  the  shattered  shed  through 
which  the  piercing  blast  entered  on  every  side. 

No  dreams  of  maternal  ambition,  no  swelling 
thoughts  of  what  she  one  day  may  be,  through  the 
glories  of  her  Bon,  disturb  the  pure  unblended  joys 
of  motherhood  in  her  chaste  and  humble  bosom. 
Every  toil  and  pain  of  the  past  journey  and  its  dis- 
tressing end — all  sense  of  present  loneliness,  penury, 
and  cold, — every  anticipation  of  a  future  career,  be  it 
of  splendor  or  of  wretchedness,  is  swallowed  up  in  the 
one  unalloyed  happiness  of  possessing  at  that  moment 
■uch  a  son.  As  yet  he  hardly  belongs  to  the  world  : 
besides  her  faithful  spouse,  who  adores  in  silence  by 
ber  side,  not  a  human  being  has  yet  passed  the 
threshold  of  their  humble  sanctuary,  or  ruffled  the 
itillness  of  the  solemn  ucene.  Only  Heaven  has 
ahared  their  raptares — on  earth  He  is  yet  their  own, 
txolosiyely. 


^  , 


24 


TIIB  INOABNATIOM   AWD 


Gaze  on,  maiden  mother,  while  yet  thou  mayest,  in 
quiet  and  joy  I  Make  thy  firet  draught  at  this  fount- 
ain of  thy  gladness,  long  and  inebriating !  For  soon 
shalt  thou  be  able  to  say  to  the  daughters  of  Bethle- 
hem, as  did  thy  ancestress  Noemi,  "  call  me  Mara,  that 
is,  bitter;  for  the  Lord  hath  filled  me  with  bitterness." 
(Kath,  i.  20.)  Soon  shall  t*e  sword  of  Herod  be 
waved  against  thine  Infant's  head ;  soon  shall  Simeon's 
prophetic  sword  be  in  thine  own  heart,  to  banish  for- 
ever the  peaceful  visions  of  this  night. 

But  hark !  faltering,  reverential  steps  approach  the 
door  of  the  miserable  hovel :  they  are  those  of  men 
who  hesitate  if  they  may  venture  in.  Is  it  from  shame 
of  visiting  so  wretched  a  tenement  ?  or  is  it  from  awe 
at  what  it  hath  been  announced  they  shall  find  with- 
in I    They  whisper  and  deliberate.   The  angel's  words 
were  indeed  explicit:   he  h"d  said  to  them,  "Fear 
not :    for  behold  I  bring  you  tidings  of  great  joy, 
which  shall  be  to  all  the  people.    For  this  day  is  born 
to  you  a  Saviour,  who  is  Christ  the  Lord,  in  the  city 
of  David."    When  they  had  heard  these  words,  their 
hearts  had  fallen  within  them :  how  could  they  hope 
to  gain  admittance  to  the  cradle  of  this  infant  King! 
Wherefore  announce  to  th^m  such  tidings  ?    But  what 
a  rush  took  place  in  the  tide  of  their  feelings,  when 
they  heard  the  concluding  words  of  the  angelic  er- 
rand:—"And  this  shall  be  a  sign  unto  you:   you 
shall  find  the  infant  wrapt  in  swaddling  clothes,  and 
laid  in  a  manger !"  (Luke,  ii.  12.)    Eternal  God  !  and 
was  there  ever  another  child  born,  of  whom  no  better 
descript-  n  could  be  given  than  this— You  shall  find 
him  laid  in  a  manger !    No ;   perhaps  it  is  not  upon 


BSBT 


-t»»- 


BIBTH   OS'  JESUS   CUBIST. 


25 


mayest,  in 
this  fount* 
For  soon 
of  Bethle- 
Mara,  that 
bitterness." 
F  Horod  be 
ill  Simeon's 
banish  for- 

)proach  the 
ose  of  men 
from  shame 
it  from  awe 
1  find  with- 
iSfel's  words 
bem,  "Fear 
'  great  joy, 
day  is  born 
in  the  city 
words,  their 

they  hope 
ifant  Kingt 

Bat  what 
ilings,  when 

angelic  er- 
)  you:  you 
clothes,  and 
al  God !  and 
>m  no  better 
u  shall  find 
is  not  upon 


record  that  any  one,  before  or  since,  had  his  flrai  re- 
pose in  such  a  place.  And  could  it  have  been  be- 
lieved that  angels  came  down  from  Heaven  to  direct 
men  to  one  so  meanly  lodged  3  Yet  it  was  even  bo  ; 
and  these  simple  men,  so  divinely  guided,  venture  into 
the  presence  of  their  infant  Lord. 

They  pause  upon  the  threshold  :  so  calm,  so  pure,  so 
unlike  this  earth's  is  the  scene  that  breaks  upon  them. 
The  venerable  man  who  courteously  and  cheerfully 
invites  them  to  approach;  that  young,  mild  virgin- 
mother,  all  radiant  with  humble,  unaffected  joy,  whose 
smile  encourages  them  to  draw  nigher  still ;  that  glorious 
Babe,  beautiful  beyond  the  sons  of  men,  whose  eyes 
already  beam  with  intelligence  and  benignity :  so  peer- 
less a  group,  containing  every  type  of  human  excellence 
and  perfection,  could  not  but  appear  even  to  eyes  that 
just  carne  from  gazing  on  the  multitude  of  the  heavenly 
host,  a  scene  of  another  world,  descended  for  the  bless* 
ing  of  men.  How  deep  and  ardent  was  their  first  ad- 
oration, when,  sunk  in  silence  on  their  knees,  they  med- 
itated upon  the  mystery  of  love  that  shone  visible 
before  them.  Perhaps  as  they  became  more  familiar 
with  it,  their  first  awe  melted  before  the  increasing 
warmth  of  their  feelings  into  tenderness;  and  they 
ventured  closer,  till  with  the  mother's  meek  consent, 
they  ventured  to  take  in  their  arms  and  lovingly  em- 
brace the  blessed  Child. 

And  why,  we  may  now  perhaps  ask,  were  these  men 
th  3i-st  to  be  thus  invited  to  pay  their  homage,  and 
form  a  court  to  the  Saviour  of  the  world  ?  Leaving 
it  to  the  wisdom  of  God  alone  to  know  the  true  mo- 
tives of  such  a  choice,  we  can  surely  discover  a  reason. 


MM 


mm 


B6 


TU£  INCARNATION   AND 


in  perfect  accordance  with  the  condact  pursued  hy  di- 
vine Providence  in  the  entire  mystery.  Had  not  the 
entire  earth  been  put  into  commotion,  that  the  Son  of 
God  might  be  born  in  a  stable  ?  For,  a  message  from 
an  angel  might  have  sent  his  parents  to  Bethlehem,  as 
one  sent  them  into  Egypt.  But  it  was  more  conso- 
nant to  the  dignity  of  God,  and  their  virtue,  that  the 
ignominious  place  of  His  bii-th  should  not  have  been 
matter  of  command,  but  result  from  the  presanre  of 
.  events.  For  it  would  have  hardly  been  a  natural  fnnt 
of  humility  in  one  who  knew  she  was  to  bring  into 
the  world  its  Lord  and  Maker,  to  choose  such  a  place 
for  this  purpose ;  neither  can  we  imagine  it  to  have 
been  enjoined  her  by  His  eternal  Father.  But  had 
they  been  sent  to  Bethlehem  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances, or  perhaps  when  any  less  impelling  motive 
than  an  imperial  decree  had  crowded  to  excess  its 
walls,  they  would  have  found  a  poor  but  decent  lodg- 
ing; and  that  extreme  of  poverty  and  abasement 
would  have  been  avoided,  which  forms  the  most  strik- 
ing, as  the  most  touching  circumstance  in  our  Saviour's 
nativity. 

As,  then,  the  Emperor's  decree  seems  to  have  been 
necessary  to  obtain  this  purpose,  so  does  the  preference 
given  to  the  shepherds  seem  directed  to  complete  it. 
Who  so  poor  in  the  neighborhood  of  Bethlehem,  that 
he  had  not  a  roof  over  his  head  better  than  a  deserted 
stable  ?  What  husbandman,  what  laborer,  so  destitute 
as  not  to  possess  at  least  a  hovel  for  himself  and  his 
family  ?  And  if  any  of  these  had  been  brought  to 
adore  at  the  crib,  having  learnt  who  it  was  that  lay  in 
it,  must  they  not  have  done  gentle  violence  to  the  holy 


LL.. 


tfMROTHHM 


BIRTH  OF  JKaUH   CJrRIST. 


27 


raed  by  di- 
ad  not  the 
the  Son  of 
issage  from 
thlehem,  as 
Qore  conso- 
le, that  the 

have  been 
presanre  of 
atural  fnnt 

bring  into 
uch  a  place 

it  to  have 
,  But  had 
ary  circum- 
ing  motive 
>  excess  its 
lecent  Ibdlg- 

abasement 

most  stiik- 
ar  Saviour's 

)  have  been 
i  preference 
somplete  it. 
lehem,  that 
n  a  deserted 
so  destitute 
self  and  his 
brought  to 
3  that  lay  in 
!  to  the  holy 


fam'W,  and  obliged  them  to  share  their  hearth  and 
board,  and  accept  of  such  slender,  bat  better,  accomo- 
dation as  their  poverty  could  supply?  But  out  of 
every  class,  the  shepherds  alone,  who  spent  their  nights 
in  the  open  air,  tending  their  flocks  beside  their  watch- 
fires,  or  at  most  beneath  the  scanty  shelter  of  their 
moveable  tents,  could  not  second  any  desire  their 
hearts  might  feel  to  better  the  condition  of  those  whom 
they  at  once  revered  and  loved.  They  might  press 
upon  them  some  small  provision,  as  an  offering  of  love, 
but  they  could  not  ward  off  the  wintry  chill  and  dreari- 
ness that  surrounded  them. 

But  why  this  poverty  ?  why  this  voluntary  abjec- 
tion ?  Ah  !  the  heart  that  answers  not  this  question 
readily  and  decisively,  must  be  dry  and  barren.  If 
the  Son  of  God  became  man,  it  was  from  Iova  for  us ; 
the  principle  that  suggested  the  great  act  directed  all 
its  circumstances.  He  might  have  appeared  to  the 
world,  and  have  performed  all  that  He  did  for  its  re- 
demption, without  our  being  made  acquainted  with  the 
circumstances  of  His  infancy.  The  veil  which  over- 
spreads His  subsequent  history,  till  His  manifestation 
before  Israel,  might  have  been  extended  over  the 
events  of  His  birth ;  and  we  might  have  known  Jesus, 
sufficiently  for  our  salvation,  as  the  Master  who  in- 
structed us,  and  the  Redeemer  who  died  for  us.  But 
He  had  two  lessons  to  give  us,  which  elsewhere  He 
could  not  so  well  have  taught  us  as  he  did  at  Beth- 
lehem. 

And,  first,  we  cling  to  the  world  with  obstinate  af- 
fection from  infancy  to  death.  We  wept  and  fretted 
in  our  very  cradle  when  we  first  felt  discomfort ;  and 


2g  THE  INOABNATION  AND 

those  first  tea™  were  but  the  first  fruits  of  the  solid- 
tudes  and  anxieties  which  our  love  of  perishable  goods 
continues  to  the  end  to  cause  us.    We  love  our  nehes^ 
our  reputation,  our  ease ;  we  surround  oui-selves  with 
comforts,  and  repine  if  they  be  taken  from  lis     We 
would  not  have  affliction  come  near  ««.  »«*1/*^ 
the  look  of  sorrow.    We  would   fain  that  all  the 
crosses  we  must  bear  should  be  made  of  cedar  and 
that  the  lashes  wherewith  God  scourges  us  should  be 
of  silk.    Now,  then,  look  upon  that  Infant,  who  lies 
upon  a  little  bundle  of  straw,  between  the  ox  and  the 
a^  and  tell  me  what  you  think  of  gold,  and  luxury, 
and  worship,  and  honor  1    Are  they  to  be  pmsed- 
nay,  are  they  to  be  spoken  of  in  His  presence  ?   Who 
is  iti    "The  wonderful,  the   Counsellor,   God   the 
mighty,  the  Father  of  the  world  to  come."   (Is.  ix.  6.) 
And  did  He  will  to  be  laid  upon  so  lowly  a  bed,  and 
to  be  attended  with  such    mean  state,  and  to   be 
clothed  so  poorly,  and  to  be  known  so  little :   and 
shall  we.  sinners  ..nd  poor  slave*,  afct  great  pomp 
and  service,  and  lose  our  peace  if  all  things  fall  no 
out  with  us  as  we  desire?      Oh !  such  thoughts  will 
not  brook  the  vicinity  of  that  humble  couch ;  they 
fit  us  not  to  enter  in  with  the  shepherds;  they  belong 
to  the  rich  and  proud  inhabitants  of  Bethlehem   who 
refused  admittance  to  the  poor,  but  most  blessed 

Darents  of  Jesus.  ,  ^      u* 

^  And  if,  in  our  dear  Lord's  nativity,  we  are  taught 
to  despise  th«  vain  delights  of  earth,  we  are  surely 
attracted  by  a  sweet,  but  powerful,  influence  to  cleave 
to  Him.  When  He  took  upon  Himself  our  flesh,  He 
entered  into    Brotherhood  with    ns-He   intended 


MM 


Hirl.illl«il'i<!-'Wi» 


the  solici- 
ible  gooda 
our  riches, 
elves  with 
I  lis.    We 
,  and  bate 
at  all  the 
cedftT,  and 
)  should  be 
t,  who  lies 
ox  and  the 
ind  luxury, 
B  praised — • 
Dce?   Who 
,    God   the 
(Is.  ix.  6.) 
'  a  bed,  and 
and  to  be 
little:   and 
great  pomp 
igs  fall  not 
loughts  will 
couch;  they 
they  belong 
ilehem,  who 
noBt  blessed 

B  are  taught 
e  are  surely 
ince  to  cleave 
our  flesh,  He 
BLe   intended 


BIHTH  OF  J]»UB  OURIBT. 


39 


thereby  greatly  to  win  our  lore.  Eveiy  part  of  His 
life  presents  us  some  peculiar  incentive  to  atfection, 
but  none  to  the  same  familiarity  of  love  as  this  of 
His  humble  birth  into  the  world.  When  we  contem- 
plate Him  upon  Calvary,  giving  us  the  raavellous  evi- 
dence of  a  love  strong  as  death,  there  is  in  our  returned  J 
affection  a  painful  mingling  of  sorrow,  of  a  culprit's 
shame,  a  penitent's  remorse,  and  withal,  a  bitterness 
of  sympathy  which  greatly  disturbs  the  purity  of  sim- 
ple love.  When  we  behold  Him  breaking  open  the 
bolts  of  death,  and  tiiumphing  over  the  tyranny  of 
hell  by  His  glorious  resurrection,  there  is  an  admix- 
ture of  reverence  and  exceeding  awe,  which  tempers 
our  affection  and  checks  our  familiarity.  But  here,  in 
His  poor  and  rough  bed  of  straw,  all  His  majesty  is 
shrouded,  all  His  dazzling  and  consuming  brightness 
drawn  in.  He  seems  to  require  our  loving  care,  to 
invite  our  caresses,  and  pure,  tender,  untempered  love 
is  the  exclusive  feeling  wherewith  we  view  Him. 
There  is  yet  no  stain  of  blood  upon  His  tender  flesh, 
no  reproaching  gash,  no  ignominious  crown.  We  can 
imagine  Him  as  yet  unconscious  of  the  pain  He  will 
one  day  suffer  for  us,  and  of  the  ingratitude  where- 
with we  shall  requite  Him :  His  present  misenes  seem 
independent  of  our  worthlessness,  and  such  ^  we  have 
a  full  right  to  sympathize  with. 

And  where  would  all  this  sentiment  of  sincere  and 
sweet  affection  have  been  found,  had  we  been  called 
to  meditate  on  an  infant  royally  laid  in  a  bed  of  state, 
reposing  upon  cushions  of  down,  and  watched  and 
nursed  by  princesses?  No;  we  should  have  turned 
away,  awed  by  it,  or  at  least  careless  of  its  smile ;  it 


80 


TH«  CTOARK ATIOW  AH2) 


would  have  wanted  nought  from  U8 — it  wonld  be 
more  able  already  to  give  than  to  receive.    Bat  had 
we  only  come  upon  such  a  scene,  aa  that  on  which  we 
meditate,  unawares— had  we  casually,  seeking  shelter 
from  a  storra,  found  two  resigned  and  virtuous  parents 
in  such  a  place,  at  such  a  season,  nursing  an  uncon- 
Bcions  infant  just  born,  through  the  lonely  night,  far 
more  would  our  hearts  have  been  moved  to  tender 
emotions,  than  by  the  pomp  and  grandeur  of  the  hap- 
pier child.    And  when  it  is  no  stranger  that  is  thus 
presented  to  us,  but  one  of  our  own  blood  and  line, 
and  closely  related  to  us,— when  it  is  no  thoughtless 
babe  that  stretches  forth  its  hand  by  instinctive  im- 
pulse, but  one  that  knows  and  loves  us,  and  puts  on 
winning  ways  to  arouse  and  allure  our  aflfections ;  cold 
and  frozen  beyond  the  winter's  ice  must  our  hearts  be, 
if  in  spirit,  and  with  the  arms  of  our  affection,  we  re- 
turn  not  the  embrace,  and  prove  that  we  should  not 
have  been  unworthy  of  admission  to  early  and  loving 
familiarity  with  our  Lord. 

Yes,  blessed  Jesus  1  thanks,  eternal  thanks  to  Thee, 
for  having  thought  so  well  of  the  human  heai-t,  as  to 
put  it  to  this  proof  of  love  1  Grievous  is  its  pervei^ 
sity,  crooked  are  its  ways,  hard,  too  often,  is  its  very 
core ;  but  lost  beyond  redemption  would  it  have  been, 
if  no  sympathy  had  been  left  in  it  for  Thine  infant 
charms,  Thine  infant  sufferings,  and  Thine  infant  love  I 
Thou  hast  found  out  th«  way  by  these  claims  to  win 
our  affections:  keep  them  close  to  Thee,  to  grow  with 
Thy  growth,  till  they  ripen  to  full  maturity  upon  Cal- 
vary, and  follow  us  thence  into  the  kingdom  of  love  1 
With  such  feelings,  my  brethi-en,  we  will  celebrate 


BIKTII   OF  JE8U8   CHRIST. 


81 


wonld  be 
Bat  had 
which  we 
ing  shelter 
>us  parents 
an  uncon- 
\f  night,  far 
i  to  tender 
of  the  hap- 
bat  is  thus 
1  and  line, 
thoughtless 
tinctive  ini- 
tnd  pnts  on 
itions;  cold 
ir  hearts  be, 
ition,  we  re- 
should  not 
and  loving 


the  coming  solemnities,  with  admiration  at  the  magni- 
ficence of  God's  power  and  wisdom,  manifested  in  the 
Incarnation  of  the  uncreated  Word,  and  in  grateful 
affection  for  the  love  displayed  to  us  in  His  birth  into 
the  world.  We  will  not  allow  these  days  to  run  away 
in  mere  festivity  and  amusement,  but  in  sober  joy  we 
will  unite  ourselves  to  the  shepherds  of  Bethlehem,  to 
spend  some  hours  at  least  in  devout  and  feeling  medi- 
tation by  the  humble  manger.  The  year  will  thus 
close  upon  us  with  sentiments  worthy  of  our  Chris- 
tian vocation,  and  the  next  will  open  with  fervent  de» 
sires  and  renewed  endeavore  to  walk  with  Christ  in 
newness  of  life,  to  the  full  participation  of  those 
abundant  mercies  which  His  incarnation  and  bii'th 
brought  into  the  world. 


lies  to  Thee, 
heai't,  as  to 
i  its  perver- 
,  is  its  very 
b  have  been, 
Chine  infant 
infant  love  I 
laims  to  win 
0  grow  with 
by  upon  Cal- 
om  of  love  1 
ill  celebrate 


SERMON   II. 

Matt  II.  ». 
.Wta.  taH.«».l.b».  Kin,  f  .!»'"•'    '-"';r  —  '^•" 

THiTmany  would  be  found  in  ouv  time  ready  to 

th.tm.ny.bold  traveller  would  P>;7»'''''r'f '"7, 
U,  »««  inhoepitable  d««rt^  and  tr«=e  th«  »^«»'» 
c„»r«,  of  «.n.e  river,  or  to  explore  '■"•P'^  «f  ""^^^ 
barharou.  tribe;    that  brave  ■"""«"'»»  ,7" 
hesitate  aroid  the  rookt  of  the  torrid,  or  the  icebergs 
oHhelro^n  oeean,  to  make  further  re,eara«^»  to 
the  directiou  of  current,  or  the  dip  of  the  nwdle  or 
to  di«over  «.me  new  and,  perhape,  impraoUoaW.  ,»th 
Zm  ocean  to  ocean  j  or  even  that  thie  noble  MnJ  of 
adventure  may  be  .till  fiirther  ennobled  by  »  g^™™ 
object  such  a.  has  been  of  late  the  ««.  m  the  most 
:p::dil  eSor*  of  generou.  pl'""'*^^  y*' ^  ":£ 
»rd,  the  desire  to  rewue  from  d»itruotion  one  ot 
S  martyr,  of  «ienc,  the  experience  and  observe, 
tion  of  every  day  make,  sufficiently  evident 
VI  a  .?y  one  should  be  prepared  to  encounter 

.i>«d>.d  la  »om.  d^tog  *•  0«»".  »"*  "  '"f  r"*™^'' "  *" 


maamm' 


ON   TIIB    KI'II'IIAKT. 


88 


Men  Hli  itar 

)  ready  to 
[)f  science ; 
iself  ready 
le  obscure 
;al  of  some 
would  not 
le  icebergs 
rches  as  to 
)  needle,  or 
ioable  path 
,le  b^arit  of 
J  a  glorious 
in  the  most 
yet  on  re- 
bion  one  of 
ad  observar 

it. 

a  encounter 

■olemnly,  m  dM 


similar  risks  and  toil  for  the  advancement  of  more  moral 
science, — if  any  one  should  be  tbiind  ready  to  under- 
take such  dangerous  and  distant  pilgrimages  for  the 
acquisition  of  mere  truth,  nay,  for  procuring  acquain* 
tance  with  the  gi'eatest  of  truths,  those  of  religion,  it 
would  be  a  phenomenon,  were  it  as  common  as  it  is 
rare  amongst  us,  which  could  hardly  be  explicable  on 
the  laws  which  now  rule  the  world.  And  yet  in  other 
times  it  has  not  been  so.  From  that  distant  day  when 
a  queen  of  the  East  came  to  Jerusalem  to  visit  Solo- 
mon, not  that  she  might  be  admonished  by  hi.<  riches 
and  magnificence — for  she  came  with  camels  laden 
with  gold  and  spices  and  precious  stones — but,  as  our 
Lord  tells  us,  attracted  by  his  wisdom,  that  she  might 
make  experiment  of  it  by  putting  to  him  hard  ques- 
tions; through  those  remote  ages  when  the  Catholic 
scholar  went  from  every  part  of  Europe,  and  even 
from  more  distant  continents,  across  mountains  and 
seas,  to  visit  the  schools  of  that  western  island  by 
whose  ministers  this  wisdom  of  religious  truth  was  so 
excellently  taught ;  through  those  subsequent  periods 
when  any  eminent  teacher  and  expounder  of  God's 
Word  or  of  the  laws  of  the  Church,  whether  at 
Padua,  at  Paris,  or  at  Oxford,  was  sure  to  collect 
around  him  thousands  of  hearers  eager  for  spiritual 
truth,  there  has  been  in  the  world,  almost  until  our 
present  time,  a  series  of  men  of  whom  the  kings  of 
the  East  that  came  to  visit  Jerusalem  and  Bethlehem 
at  the  time  of  our  Saviour's  birth,  have  been  justly 
considered  as  the  type.  It  is  on  this  account,  there- 
fore, that  the  Church  of  God  has  considered  them  as 
the  first  fruits  of  the  Gentiles,  even  as  the  shepherds 


mm 


M 


OH  11UI  xnnuHT. 


were  the  first  fruit*  of  the  Jew»— m  the  represent*, 
tives  of  those  jwrsons  who  should  come  in  multitudes 
from  age  to  age  to  be  instructed  by  the  Church  of 
God,  as  representing  to  us,  by  their  conduct,  the  prin* 
ciples  and  causes  by  which  these  multitudes  were  to 
be  so  brought  They  are  on  that  account  chosen  as 
the  representatives  of  that  system  of  conversion,  which 
the  Church  of  God  has  at  all  periods  endeavored  to 
pursue  over  the  entire  world. 

And  a  religious  society  that  devotes  itself,  in  Rome, 
to  the  great  work  of  the  apostleship,  has  most  be- 
comingly  selected  the  festival  of  our  Lord's  Epiphany, 
which  commemoratt's  that  singular  visit,  as  the  one  in 
which  they  desire  to  obtain  from  God  that  assistance 
and  that  grace,  to  which  alone  they  wish  to  refer, 
and  not  to  any  human  means,  their  work  and  any 
success  in  the  conversion  of  the  Gentiles.     To-day 
this  festival,  or  rather  series  of  festivals,  has  closed. 
There  have  been  day  by  day  discourses  addressed  to 
you  in  divers  languages;   divine  worship  has  been 
performed  in  a  variety  of  liturgies,  in   which  the 
language   and  the  details  might  differ,   yet  which 
presented  but  one  essential  act  of  worship,  and  in 
which  all  who  took  part  were  united  closely  by  re- 
ligious and   ecclesiastical  commuaion  with  the  one 
Catholic  Church. 

I  come,  therefore,  before  you  as  the  gleaner  of  a 
wellreaped  field,  to  follow  those  who  have,  no  doubt, 
treated  in  your  presence  the  great  principles  emltodied 
in  this  celebration,  leaving  me  only  to  gather  and 
join  together  a  variety  of  topics  which  may  not,  per- 
haps, be  80  sU-ictly  united  as  a  more  set  discourse  on 


it'^UftJif^-^'^l-'''^-'  • 


?^^rtS32^ 


saausuuuES 


z^m:3si:Tsmmm3mmm0)m 


iSWB'"" 


I 


present*" 
ultitudtfi 
burch  of 
the  prin- 
I  were  to 
choeen  aa 
on,  which 
Rvored  to 

in  Rome, 
moat  be- 
Spiphany, 
Lhe  one  in 
aasistance 
to  refer, 
and  any 
To-day 
laa  closed, 
dremed  to 
has  been 
vhich  the 
^et  which 
ip,  and  in 
lely  by  re- 
i  the  one 

saner  of  a 
I  no  doubt, 
I  emltodied 
gather  and 
,y  not,  per* 
scourse  on 


oir  niK  Ki'iruAinr, 


85 


one  point  wonid ;  but  which  may  present  to  yon  a 
variety  of  inntruotiun,  and  that  v(  a  Bumewhat  practi- 
cal nature.  It  ifi  a  homily,  if  I  may  mo  speak,  on  the 
Gospel  of  the  Epiphany,  rather  than  a  sermon,  which 
it  is  my  intention  to  deliver. 

First,  my  brethren,  accompany  mo  in  spirit  to  the 
country  lying  east  of  Judea,  in  which  we  shall  And  those 
good  men,  whose  companions  we  are  intending  to  be, 
during  their  pilgrimage  to  Judea.  They  are  men,  we 
cannot  doubt,  of  high  station  and  abundant  wealth. 
They  will  bear  with  them  royal  gifts,  gold  and  spices 
of  the  East,  like  what  the  queen  brought  as  a  fitting 
present  to  king  Solomon.  They  will  go  across  the 
desert  with  ample  treasures, — nay,  the  dromedaries  of 
Madian  and  Epha  will  l)e  in  their  trmn ;  a  very  flood 
of  camels,  according  to  the  language  of  prophecy,  w  to 
pour  on  Jerusalem  when  they  approach  it.  Their  com- 
ing will  set  the  whole  city  in  commotion,  not  as  the 
advent  of  a  few  insignificant  travellers ;  for  they  will 
be  worthy  to  be  received  in  private  audience  by  Herod, 
and  they  will  be  considered  of  sufficient  importance  for 
the  priests  to  be  assembled,  to  answer  the  questions 
which  they  had  to  put. 

They  are,  moreover,  men  distinguished  not  only  by 
lineage  and  position,  but  also  by  intelligence  and 
learning.  They  have  observed  the  stars  with  such 
watchfulness,  with  such  experience  and  skill,  that  they 
have  in  a  moment  detected  the  appearance  of  a  new 
heavenly  body  in  the  firmament.  They  have  been  able 
to  calculate  its  laws  of  movement ;  they  have  seen  that 
it  tends  to  a  distant  direction,  that  it  is  not  like  the  rest 
of  the  celestial  bodies,  a  fixed  star ;  they  have  con- 


^^^^^^▼^ 


7 


10  on  tax  ju'iruAifT. 

dude^l  from  UiU  that  it  ii  •  •iffti  that  point*  to  lome. 
thing  elw,  or  that  it  is  c<.unect«d  with  mnw  gr««t 
•vent     Bat  if  w«  aunlyiw  thin  knowltMlg«  which  th«y 
powH^wi.  and  note  how  it  became  to  them  of  a  practical 
character,  we  nhall  aee  that  it  ia  compowd  of  two  dis- 
tinct  part* ;  the  flrtt  comI-Ui  of  the  |>ow«r  of  obaerviwg 
the  phenomena  of  nature,  of  i«««o.ung  concernmg  them, 
and  of  coming  to  accurate  concl.wions  from  th.MU. 
But  thia  woultl  not  have  V)een  aufflcient.     We  canuot 
doubt  that  they  aliio  had  a  higher  and  nobler  source 
of  knowledge ;  the  very  words  which  they  spak  when 
they  come  to  Jerusalem,  prove  to  us  that  their  obser- 
vation  of  nature  had  received  a  comment  from  revelaj 
tion,  which  they  had  carefully  studied,  or  which  had 
been  treasured  up  in  the  traditions  of  their  tubes.     A 
propUet  of  Asia  had  spoken,  muny  ages  before,  words 
to  which  their  expressions  %ccurately  apply.     "  Wheie 
is  He"  they  ask,  "that  is  born  King  of  the  Jews? 
For  we  have  seen  His  star  in  the  East,  and  we  are 
oome  to  adore  him."    The  appearance  of  this  particu- 
lar star  indicates  a  birth;   it  indicates  the  birth  of  a 
king,  not  in  their  neighborhood,  not  in  the  centre  of 
Asia,  but  in  the  regions  of  the  West ;  a  King  of  Judea 
must  have  been  born  wheu  it  tiroee;  for  we  find  the 
words  of  a  mysterious  prophecy  laid  up  in  the  faithful 
memory  of  the  East :  "  A  star  shall  rise  out  of  Jacob, 
»Dd  »  sceptre  shall  spring  up  fi-om  Israel."     (Num. 

xxiv.  IT.) 

This  star  it  the  star  of  Jacob ;  a  new  sceptre,  a  now 
prince,  who  will  be  greater,  higher,  and  nobler  than 
an^  who  have  preceded  him,  shall  spring  up  lu  the 
land  of  Judea.    Uniting  these  two  together,  they  un- 


ON  TIIK    KI'irilAtTT. 


»t 


to  loine- 
lie  gr««i 
lich  they 
pi-actical 
two  diN- 
ilmerving 
ing  them, 

>lll    th«MU. 

'o  cannot 
er  louroM 
«ak  whtiD 
leir  olwwr- 
)in  rovelft- 
yhich  had 
;iibes.     A 
Df©,  word* 
"Where 
the  Jewal 
nd  we  are 
lis  partiou* 
birth  of  a 
J  c«ntre  of 
g  of  Judea 
re  find  the 
Lhe  faithful 
it  of  Jacob, 
L"    (Num. 

ptre,  a  now 

lobler  than 

up  ill  the 

er,  they  un- 


dnnitand  that  thin  beacon  ia  int«nd«^d  to  guide  their 
•ttjpi  on  th«ir  jHTilous  journey  across  the  dtaert,  to 
tmk  Ilim ;  and  with  noble  reaolutiou  they  at  once  un- 
dertake the  tn«k. 

If  we  now  puniuo  the  courie  of  conversion  further 
•till,  we  ihall  nee  how  these  two  means  have  been 
thosn  which  IN'ovidenro  has  UNcd  to  bring  to  tliu 
knowliulge  of  (/hrintinfiity,  and  to  communion  with 
the  Church,  great  mnltitu(l<*fl  of  nationx.  For  this 
twofold  ray,  the  natural  jmwer  of  reasoning  on  phe- 
nomena which  fall  under  the  dominion  of  the  senses, 
and  the  being  guided  by  the  testimony  of  the  inspired 
word,  which,  united  together,  form  the  star  that  led 
the  wise  men  from  the  V]nst,  has  formed  the  two 
means  whereby  the  conversiou  of  mankind  has  been 
wrought. 

Imagine  soon  after  the  appearance  of  this  stiif,  a 
moral  and  sincere  heathen  looking  abroad  on  the 
world.  He  sees  all  that  is  barbarous  in  it  immersed 
\n  darkness,  and  hideous  immorality  coiTU[)ting  the 
more  civiliBed  portion.  He  sees  that  wonderful  mys- 
tery, the  inequality  between  different  states, — the  vir- 
tuous man  oppressed,  ruined,  crushed  by  the  foot  of 
the  powerful ;  the  dating  sinner  exalted,  flourishing, 
and  enjoying  to  the  moment  of  his  death  all  the  hap« 
pinrss  of  this  world.  Where,  he  asks,  is  the  solution 
of  this  wonderful,  this  strange,  this  dark  and  afflicting 
mystery  ?  He  knows  not  where  to  find  it.  He  sees 
man,  whom  he  has  studied  in  himself  and  others,  evi- 
dently a  creature  of  noble  destiny,  and  fully  endowed 
with  powers  necessary  to  attain  it ;  bnc  at  the  sume 
time  weakened,  broken,  rained  in  every  faculty  of  bis 


T 


S8 


ON   THE  EPIPHANY. 


mind,  and  in  every  feeling  of  his  heart.    There  he 
sees  him  lie,  with  the  consciousness  that  he  in  but  the 
wreck  of  his  noble  self,  and  anxious  to  raise  himself 
from  his  degradation,  but  sinking  every  moment  lower 
and  lower,  and  unable  to  accomplish  that  for  which  he 
knows  he  was  created.    Where  shall  he  seek  for  a 
suflficient  solution  of  this  wonderful  mystery  ?    Where 
will  the  means  be  found  to  accomplish  that  which  he 
sees  Nature  cannot  do  ?    This  reasoning  is  the  star 
which  will  lead  him  forward.     He  will  seek  on  every 
side  where  this  wonderful  problem  may  be  solved, 
and  that  star  leads  him  to  the  East  and  to  the  West, 
to  India,  or  to  Chaldea,  or  to  Egypt,  or  to  Greece,  or 
to  Rome,  and  he  asks  priests  and  scribes  in  all  those 
places,  and  they  tell  him  nothing ;  he  ie  still  in  sor- 
rowful darkness,  and  he  knows  not  where  he  shall 
come  to  the  light. 
-     But  at  last  he  learns  that  it  has  broken  forth.    He 
has  heard  with  the  wise  men  of  the  East  that  there  is 
a  child  born, — that  in  that  child  is  the  wonderful 
mystery  which  he  sees  gradually  developed, — a  mys- 
teiy  which  presents,  as  clearly  as  does  the  sun,  a  light 
that  at  once  sheds  a  brilliancy  over  all  that  till  now 
has  perplexed  and  darkened  him.    The  judgment  to 
come  of  justice  and  retribution,  from  which  the  Gen- 
tiles shrink,  is  to  him  a  lesson  of  consolation.    There, 
he  is  told,  will  be  the  final  decision  by  which  virtue 
and  vice  will  be  put  in  their  proper  place  and  proper 
light,  where  reward  eternal  and  punishment  perpetual 
shall  be  allotted  to  each ;  and  that  child  comes  as  the 
judge  that  is  to  render  this  righteous  judgment  to  the 
entire  world.    But  how  is  it  possible  that  in  one 


L 


yiiUi,!^ 


'■  '■^'"^■'-■^-ili-Tiii    j^-.!v.'»^Jiit^^-i.'!-.^i..^-   -'-:■-. t-i:..-.-j--j^>j»^-'V  f.ii.-t;v.-iMf.wi.  .i-..-!;  -,  .iiu:t.\j^^ 


r 


There  he 
18  but  the 
se  himself 
aent  lower 
•  which  he 
leek  for  a 
I  Where 
which  he 
3  the  star 
c  on  every 
be  solved, 
the  West, 
Greece,  or 
Q  all  those 
till  in  sor- 
e  he  shall 

forth.  He 
lat  there  is 
wonderful 
id, — a  mys- 
inn,  a  light 
at  till  now 
dgment  to 
I  the  Gen- 
>n.  There, 
hich  virtue 
and  proper 
t  perpetual 
)mes  as  the 
nent  to  the 
hat  in  one 


r 


ON  THE  EPIPHANY. 


80 


child  this  great,  this  magnificent  and  divine  office 
shall  be  lodged  3  And  this  is  not  all ;  the  child,  too, 
comes  on  the  express  understanding  of  teaching  the 
doctrine  itself  which  solves  the  whole  of  the  enigma ; 
man  has  fallen,  who  was  created  for  greatness  and 
glory :  he  fell  by  his  own  act,  was  helpless,  and  has 
remained  so  until  a  Redeemer  has  come — a  child,  in- 
deed, but  one  who  will  bear  on  Him  the  iniquity  of 
the  world.  But  how  is  it  possible  that  both  these 
sublime  offices  of  God  and  Redeemer  should  be  com- 
bined, and  that  in  one  infant  ?  When  he  hears  the 
whole  of  the  mystery,  that  that  child  is  not  merely 
the  son  of  man,  but  that  He  is  God  incarnate,  then  all 
is  clear,  all  is  simple.  In  Him  is  that  power,  that 
might,  that  wisdom,  that  love,  that  immense  goodness 
and  mercy  which  can  alone  devise  and  do  a  divine 
act,  which  can  alone  empower  its  performance;  and 
in  Him  also  are  the  claims  and  the  rights  of  man, 
which  authorize  Him  to  make  use  of  these  great  at- 
tributes for  what  might  otherwise  appear  an  unlearned 
and  undeserved  pui-pose.  The  union  of  God  and 
man,  of  God  and  the  Redeemer— the  appearance  of 
this  solution  in  the  world,  at  once  clears  oflf  all  diffi- 
culties. The  aincere  heathen  believes  all  by  simple 
contact  with  its  performance;  it  meets  the  problem 
at  every  part,  it  adapts  itself  to  eveiy,  the  smallest 
and  feeblest  of  doubts,  and  he  embraces  at  once 
Christianity,  after  he  has  been  fully  instructed — by 
instruction,  every  word  of  which  only  further  strength- 
ens his  convictions. 

But  the  upright  Jew,  like  Simeon  or  Zachary,  has 
no  need  thus  to  go  abroad ;  his  star  is  in  his  hands, 


JL 


T 


i*' 


40 


ON  TUB  EPIPllANY. 


and  seated  whether  among  the  columns  of  the  Temple, 
or  amidst  the  balsams  of  Jericho,  or  under  the  waving 
cedare  of  Libanus,  or  beneath  his  own  fig-tree  like  Na- 
thaniel, he  unrolls  the  sacred  volume  before  him,  and 
there,  sincere,  honest,  and  virtuous,  he  endeavors  to 
unravel  the  mysteries  which  it  presents.    The  time  is 
come,  and  must  now  indeed  have  reached  its  maturity, 
when  the  prophecies  of  which  he  has  long  been  reading 
must  be  fulf '^ed.    But  he  still  finds  so  much  of  doubt, 
80  much  of  difficulty,  that  he  seeks  somewhere  for  the 
solution.    There  is  the  prophecy  which  speaks  of  a 
magnificent  kingdom  to  be  established  over  the  entire 
world.  A  King  is  to  come  as  the  mighty  conqueror  of  all 
nations,  and  at  the  same  time  he  finds  that  He  is  to  l>e 
poor  and  weak,  riding  on  an  ass,  that  His  hands  and  feet 
are  to  be  pierced,  that  He  is  to  be  an  outcast  of  the 
people,  and  as  a  worm  trodden  under  foot,  and  to  be 
computed  among  sinners,  though  at  the  same  time  He 
is  to  be  blameless  before  God.    So  the  Jew,  too,  wrings 
his  hands ;  he  knows  not  which  way  to  turn,  and  see 
where  it  is  possible  to  find  Him  who  shall  unite  in 
Himself  these  attributes  of  greatness  and  littleness. 

His  star  is  before  him:  let  him  follow  it  step  by 
step  whither  it  shall  lead  him,  and  his  doubts  shall  be 
cleared  up.  Yes,  he  in  time  hears  that  One  born  in 
Bethlehem  has  grown  up,  and  is  preaching  among  the 
people.  He  goes  forth  into  the  wilderness,  and  wit- 
nesses  His  actions:  holiness,  purity,  and  the  sublimest 
perfection,  are  manifested  in  His  every  word  and  deed ; 
a  power  omnipotent  is  exerted  in  a  variety  of  miracles ; 
death  and  tl^e  grave  afe  obedient  to  His  voice ;  kindness 
and  mercy,  affectionate  tenderness  and  forgivingness, 


r 


he  Temple, 
the  waving 
ee  like  Na- 
•e  him,  and 
ideavore  to 
The  time  is 
IS  maturity, 
een  reading 
ih  of  doubt, 
[lere  for  the 
jpeaks  of  a 
r  the  entire 
jueror  of  all 
He  is  to  l>e 
nds  and  feet 
tcast  of  the 
t,  and  to  be 
me  time  He 
,  too,  wrings 
irn,  and  see 
kail  unite  in 
ittleness. 
IT  it  step  by 
ibts  shall  be 
One  born  in 
g  among  the 
ess,  and  wit- 
he sublimest 
rd  and  deed ; 
of  miracles ; 
ce ;  kindness 
orgivingness, 


ON  TUB  KPIPIIANT. 


41 


and  every  attribute  of  a  truly  great  and  divine  mind 
are  manifested  in  Him.  He  follows  Him  into  a  cavern 
at  night,  and  sees  Him  in  "  the  prayer  of  God ;"  next 
sought  to  be  made  a  king;  still  ever  equally  humble 
and  unpretending.  He  goes  with  Him  to  the  supper  of 
the  rich,  and  to  the  halls  of  the  Temple,  and  finds  Him 
inflexible  and  stern  in  repi*oving  vice ;  in  truth,  he  ob- 
serves in  Him  every  character  of  the  great  man  whom 
he  expects  to  be  the  deliverer  of  his  nation.  He  is  of 
the  family  of  David,  for  He  was  born  in  Bethlehem, 
according  to  prophecy.  He  exhausts  all  those  grand 
characteristics  of  one  destined  to  rule  his  people  and 
lead  them  whither  He  wills.  The  Jew  has  found  the 
Messiah-— his  Lord. 

But  his  perplexity  is  not  over.  How  can  he 
reconcile  what  he  has  henrd  concerning:  "the  ser- 
vant of  God,"  described  by  Isaias  (liii.),  and  the 
great  and  beautiful  things  which  he  sees  and  hears  ? 
I  will  be,  he  says,  one  of  those  silent  followere 
in  the  footsteps  of  Jesus.  And  he  will  hear  with 
astx)nishment  that  the  whole  of  Israel  is  in  a  ferment 
of  fury,  and  that  He  whom  he  has  admired,  and  in 
whom  he  has  seen  nothing  but  the  great  king  destined 
to  free  the  people,  is  a  captive  and  in  bonds.  He  will 
hear  that  He  has  been  treated  as  a  malefactor.  His 
heait  will  fail  within  him.  He  will  hear  how  the 
priests  have  accused  Him ;  how  Pilate  has  condemned 
and  scourged  Him,  and  that  He  is  led  now  to  be  cru- 
ciiied.  He  follows  Him  to  Calvaiy.  He  sees  Him, 
meek  and  humble,  nailed  as  a  victim  to  the  cross. 
The  truth  of  the  two-fold  prophecy  rusjjhes  on  his 
mind.    The  King  of  Israel  crowned  with  thorns ;  the 


T 


Rtft»IIMIMlMii 


•WT" 


4» 


ON   THE   KPIPIIANT. 


Saviour  and  Ruler  of  His  people  enthroned  on  the 
cross;  His  hands  that  had  to  hold  the  sword  to  lead 
them  to  victory,  pierced  with  nails;  and  His  head, 
that  had  to  be  erect  with  the -sovereignty  of  the 
world,  bowed  in  death.  He  strikes  his  breast  and  says, 
"  Truly  this  is  .he  Son  of  Qod." 

It  was  by  this  two-foL    way  that  the  Gentile  and 
the  Jew  were  brought  to  the  knowledge  of  Christian- 
ity.   The  same  cou'/se  has  been  followed  in  one  form 
or  another  even  until  now.    Let  us  then  imagine  a 
pereon,  in  our  times,  anxious  and  eager  for  truth  as 
were  those  Eastern  Kings,  as  were  the  sagacious  Pagan 
and  the  devout  Jew ;  and  let  us  suppose  that  he  has 
aiTived  at  this  conclusion  more  strongly  than  they 
could  have  aoner-that  however  various  may  be  the 
forms  of  opinion,  tnith  must  certainly  be  one.    He 
has  wavered  from  side  to  side,  and  gone  from  place  to 
place,  as  he  sought  truth  under  various  forms  general- 
ly conflicting,  and  he  has  at  last  sat  down  to  reason, 
by  what  means  it  can  be  found.    He  t^es  up  the.  ar- 
gument where  the  heathen  and  the  Jew  left  it ;  they 
sought,  he  has  found  his  Saviour ;  he  will  say  to  him- 
self, if  the  Son  of  God  came  down  from  Heaven  to 
teach  mankind  truth,  surely  the  discovery  of  it  cannot 
be  so  difficult  or  so  painful  as  I  have  found  it.    If  He 
came  to  establish  His  kingdom  on  earth,  it  must  have 
great  and  striking  characteristics ;  it  must  be  ruled  by 
a  principle  which  secures  unity  in  belief,  for  otherwise 
there  cannot  be  truth ;  it  must  have  such  authority 
and  power  as  to  bring  down  the  sublimest  iutellects 
into  the  acknowledgment  and  belief  of  all  that  it 
teaches ;  it  must  have  wisdom  which  will  raise  the 


led  on  the 
•rd  to  lead 
His  head, 
uty  of  the 
Bt  and  says, 

Jentilo  and 
f  Christian- 
n  one  form 
I  imagine  a 
)r  truth  as 
iious  Pagan 
:,h8t  he  has 

than  they 
may  be  the 
e  one.  He 
'om  place  to 
nns  general- 
L  to  reason, 
s  np  thear- 
eft  it;  they 

say  to  him- 
i  Heaven  to 
of  it  cannot 
dit.  If  He 
t  mast  have 
be  roled  by 
or  otherwise 
5h  authority 
est  iutellects 
'  all  that  it 
ill  ruse  the 


ON   THE  EPIPHANY. 

intelligence  of  the  lowest  and  most  ignorant  to  the 
level  of  its  sublime  doctrines ;  it  must  have  the  means 
to  make  itself  known  so  clear  and  obvious,  that  no  one 
can  fail  to  find  it. 

And  he,  like  the  Pagan,  has  undoubtedly  discovered 
that  man  wants  reparation,  that  he  wants  "Strength, 
that  he  wants  the  means  of  attaining  his  high  destiny 
of  a  future  and  better  existence ;  and  further,  he  is 
convinced  that,  wherever  that  truth  has  been  deposit- 
ed, there  are  with  it  the  means  also  of  healing  these 
wounds  of  humanity,  of  strengthening  that  weakness, 
of  directing  those  steps,  and  of  making  him  whom  re- 
demption found  prostrate  and  wounded,  able  to  walk 
on  boldly  to  the  eternal  crown  th'at  is  prepared  for 
him.  "That  is  what  I  should  expect;  reason  and  ar- 
gument tell  me  that  if  the  Son  of  God  came  and  estab- 
lished His  religion  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  useful,  effi- 
cacious and  profitable,  I  must  naturally  expect  to  find 
Buch  a  body  as  this." 

But  he  will  not  stop  here ;  he  will  take  up  the  sa- 
cred volume  which  the  Jew  has  dropped,  when  he 
has  discovered  that  all  that  it  contains  is  a  type, — 
when  he  has  seen  accomplished  on  Calvary  the  mys- 
teries previously  revealed,  and  waiting,  expecting  a 
new  and  more  perfect  revelation.  The  Christian  i^ 
search  of  truth  takes  up  that  volume,  and  finds  added 
to  it  a  shorter,  but  at  least  a  more  perfect  record,  of 
the  thoughts  and  words  of  God.  And  there,  does  he 
find  that  all  is  contradictory  of  what  his  natural  sense 
and  reasoning  have  taught  him  to  expect,  in  looking 
for  that  which  Christ  has  established  on  earth,  for  the 
Bake  of  making  known  His  truth  ?    He  finds,  on  the 


r 


r 


tm 


I 


44 


OK  TlIB  KPIPn.VIfT. 


«^        7,  thftt,  point  l)y  point,  the  two  tally  perfectly 

1..V;    -tier. 

In  the  Old  Testament  are  the  description  and 
prophecy  of  a  king<lora,  where  is  union  of  peace  and 
truth :  in  the  New  Testament  is  the  constitution  of 
the  Church,  in  which  unity  is  secured  by  infallible 
teaching  and  direction,  and  in  which,  at  the  same 
time,  are  all  the  means  of  grace,  and  abundant  treas- 
ures for  the  renovation  of  fallen  man.  There  is  bap- 
tism to  wash  away  original  sin ;  there  is  the  food  that 
strengthens  him  to  eternal  life ;  there  is  the  forgive- 
ness of  sins,  by  which  all  transgressions  may  be  can- 
celled. 

Then  he,  too,  has  found  the  star  which  he  must  fol- 
low. He  believes,  he  expects,  he  hopes  that  some- 
where or  other  he  may  be  able  to  find  a  system  of 
truth,  a  system  of  teaching,  at  least,  which  will  have 
all  these  characteristics  of  truth— one  that  will  offer  a 
plain  and  easy  path  on  which  to  walk  with  comfort 
towards  the  goal  of  existence ;  and  he  will  hope  to 
find  it  abundantly  furnished  with  whatever  is  neces- 
sary to  enable  tlie  poor  lost  creature — man — to  per- 
form deeds  of  virtue  worthy  of  this  end.  Let  him, 
then,  too,  follow  bis  star,  and  see  whither,  by  GodV. 
blessing,  it  will  lead  him. 

But  tlie  kings  of  the  East  start  on  their  journey. 
They  must  be  struck  with  the  difficulties  that  present 
themselves  at  once  before  them.  In  the  first  place 
they  will,  perhaps,  be  astonished  at  seeing  how  few 
pursue  the  same  couree  as  they  do.  Four  of  them,  at 
most,  are  recorded  io  have  come  to  Jerusalem  to  pay 
homage  to  the  new-born  King.    Hov/  many  thousands 


y  perfectly 

iption  Rnd 
peace  and 
stitution  of 
y  infallible 
:;  the  sanoie 
idant  treas- 
lere  is  bap- 
e  food  that 
ho  forgive- 
lay  be  caa- 

le  must  fol- 
that  some- 
i  system  of 
h  will  have 
will  offer  a 
ith  comfort 
^ill  hope  to 
ver  is  neces- 
an — to  per- 
.  Let  him, 
jr,  by  GodV, 

eir  journey, 
that  present 
e  first  place 
ng  how  few 
of  them,  at 
alem  to  pay 
y  thousands 


ON   THE   KI'D'HANY. 

Bad  seen  the  star;  how  many  hundreds  had  contem- 
plated it;    how  many  as  learned  as  themselves  had 
watched  it,  and  traced  its  laws  !     How  had  these  been 
discussed,— how  had  the  object  to  which  it  tended 
been  gradually  made  know  to  many !     Yet  how  few 
had  acted  I    The  question  further  would  present  itself, 
"  Why  should  we  go  ?  why  should  we  move  ?    It  is 
true  we  see  a  star  which  seems  to  point  to  another 
kingdom  ;  a  new  religion  perhaps  may  spring  up  in 
the  West ;  but  our  first  duty  is  to  our  own  country 
an4  people ;  why  should  we  run  the  risk  of  following 
a  light  which,  after  all,  may  mislead  us  ?     Why  need 
we  consider  ourselves  bound  to  abandon  our  homes, 
our  families,  our  kingdom,  perhaps  all  that  belongs  to 
us,  to  make  foi-feiture  of  whatever  is  precious  to  us, 
and  follow  a  star  of  which  we  know  not  the  past  his- 
tory, and  are  ignorant  of  the  present  purpose  ?    It  is 
better  for  us  to  remain ;  let  us  wait  a  while  and  see 
whither  it  may  go ;  let  some  one  else  try  the  experi- 
ment,  and  when  he  reports,  it  will  be  time  to  move." 
No,  they  simply  considered  that  it  was  a  sign   ad- 
dressed to  them  from  Heaven ;  and  they  determined 
at  once,  without  hesitation,  to  follow. 

They  did  so ;  and  they  had  no  reason  surely  to  re- 
pent of  their  obedience  to  the  call  of  this  voice  from 
Heaven.  And  we  shall  find  this  to  be  the  histoiy  of 
conversion,  in  every  other  part  of  the  world.  God 
may  be  said  to  have  used  two  distinct  methods,  and  to 
have  allotted  them  to  distinct  periods  of  the  world. 
One  is  when  through  performance  of  wonderful  works, 
through  miracles,  through  signs  in  heaven  or  on 
eai-th,  by  supernatural  grace,  eloquence  and  power. 


"T 


i 


«>■(«■ 


46 


ON  Tiue  xririiAMY. 


bestowed  on  a  few  obosen  ierv«nt«,  men  came  into 
tlie  Church  in  muUitude«.  Such  was  the  counw  in 
the  first  conversions  in  Judea;  such  was  the  effect 
of  the  preaching  of  the  great  apostle  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxons,  St.  Augustine ;  such,  too,  was  the  case  with  St. 
Boniface,  who  carried  the  faith  to  Germany ;  and  such 
was  it,  likewise,  when  St  Francis  Xavier  went  and  bore 
ito  light  and  truth  to  the  East  But,  with  a  few  bril- 
liant  exceptions  such  as  these,  the  work  is  slow,  and 
gradual,  and  individual. 

For,  after  the  first  foundation  of  the  Roman  Church, 
it  was  the  consolation  of  Christians  day  after  day  to 
hear,  now  that  a  member  of  the  senate,  now  that  one 
high  in  the  SUte,  and  again  that  an  ofllcer  of  distinction 
in  the  array,  or  perhaps  a  simple  knight,  had  joined 
the  Church.    Their  ranks  then  swelled  slowly ;  God 
was  thanked  heartily  as  each  soul  came  in,  and  this 
slow  increase  went  on  for  three  hundred  years  before 
Christianity  was  sufficiently  great  to  take  on  itself  the 
government  of  the  world.    Such  has  been  often  the 
case,  and  is  now ;  and  if  we  see  that,  through  our  hum- 
ble ministry,  God  works  thus,  if  we  discover  that  one 
by  one  we  gain  souls,  we  must  not  be  astonished  or 
dejected,  but  feel  that  this  is  the  course  which  God 
has  generally  puraued.    Should  it  please  Him  to  re- 
joice our  hearts  with  one  of  those  splendid  religious 
phenomena,  which  He  has  permitted  only  from  time 
to  time,  then,  indeed,  we  will  thank  Him  in  the  fulness 
of  our  hearts ;  but  in  the  mean  time  let  us  be  content 
to  go  on  sowing  and  scattering  silently  in  the  furrow, 
and  with  tears,  those  seeds  of  His  word,  of  which  we 
know  that  not  one  can  fall  in  vain.  > 


ON  TIIK  XPIFIIANY. 


47 


came  into 

coureu  in 

the  effect 

ihe  Anglo- 

se  with  St. 

;  and  Buoh 

it  and  bore 

a  few  bril- 

bIow,  and 

m  Gharch, 
Pter  day  to 
w  that  one 
distinction 
iad  joined 
)wly;  God 
Q,  and  this 
jars  befoi-e 
n  itself  the 
I  often  the 
h  onr  hum- 
er  that  one 
lionished  or 
which  God 
Him  to  re- 
d  religious 
•  from  time 
the  fulness 
be  content 
the  furrow, 
f  which  we 


Bat  whither  are  the  wise  men  of  the  East  led  ?  Does 
the  star  at  once  conduct  them  to  the  point  at  which 
they  aitn  ?  No,  Providence  has  been  pleased  to  give 
us  a  further  lesson.  God  wished  that,  in  addition  to 
that  guidance  which  their  own  reason,  reflected  on  th» 
word  of  prophecy,  had  till  now  given  them,  they  should 
receive  strouger  testimony  still,  and  that  from  unwil- 
ling teachers,— from  the  very  enemies  of  Him  towards 
whom  they  were  journeying. 

It  was  natural  that  they  should  go  to  Jerusalem. 
The  King  of  the  Jews  was  born.    They  are  come  to 
seek  Him ;  and  where  more  naturally  could  they  ex- 
pect to  find  Him  than  in  the  royal  city  ?    They  expect, 
on  approaching  Jerusalem,  to  see  signs  of  gladness,  re- 
joioing,  and  jubilee,  and  thanksgiving;  they  expect  to 
find  the  Temple  garlanded,  the  priests  in  their  noblest 
robes,  and  the  Levites  leading  the  chaunts  of  the  mul- 
titude ;  they  expect  to  find  the  roads  filled  with  pilgrims 
on  their  way  to  pay  the  same  act  of  religious  worship 
which  they  are  about  to  render.     How  diflerent  is  the 
reality !    Not  a  pilgrim  is  wending  his  way  towards 
the  city.    They  enter  in  and  find  it  the  same  as  usual ; 
its  business  of  eveiy-day  life,  its  traffic  md  its  litiga' 
tion,  its  disorders  and  its  military  oppression,  are  all 
going  on,  as  if  no  great  event  had  oocuned  to  excite 
curiosity  in  the  population,  or  increase  the  tid^  of  ordi- 
narj'  joy.    Jerusalem  shows  no  symptoms  of  conscious- 
ness that  He  is  come  into  the  world,  of  whose  coming 
they  have  no  doubt. 

The  faith  of  the  wise  men  may  waver,  but  they 
cannot  doubt  they  are  right  in  their  search,  and  here- 
they  must  discover  all  they  wish  to  know.    Yes, 


I 


r 


"m* 


^m 


48 


Olf   TIIK   Kl'irUAMT. 


whither  Hhall  th«y  go  but  to  the  chief  of  that  prlent- 
hood  which  i«  in  cIoimj  alliance  with  the  HUte,  which 
givcH  it  information  on  all  that  n-latea  to  religioun 
duties,  which  ex|K)»ndH  articles  of  faith,  and  id  aup- 
ported  and  maintained  in  i)orap  and  greatnew  by  the 
monarch  of  the  Jewi  \  It  is  among  them  naturally— 
it,  ia  with  the  national  religion  firmly  established  by 
the  law  of  the  land,  that  they  must  expect  to  find 
all  that  their  star  has  brought  them  to  seek.  "Where 
is  He,"  they  ask,  "  that  is  born  King  of  the  Jews?" 

Jerusalem  is  dismayed.     Herod  and  his  city  are 
troubled,  and  at  what  I    They  fear  that  a  disturbance 
is  going  to  take  place  in  the  quiet  and  unruffled 
course  of  affairs  in  the  kingdom;  that  men  are  come 
from  a  disUnce  to  ask  questions  which  it  is  trouble- 
some to  answer ;  that  a  rival  power  is  about  to  arise 
which  will  disturb  the  Church  and  State  iu  Jerusalem. 
But  they  receive  the   testimony  which   they  seek. 
If  that  King  is  to  be  born,  if  there  is  to  be  such  a 
manifestation,  it  is  not  in  great  and  noble  Jerusalem 
they  must  look ;  they  must  go  to  little  Bethlehem,  a 
mean  and  poor  city  at  a  distance,  and  there,  perhaps,  if 
He  has  been  heard  of,  they  may  find  what  they  desire. 
How  is  this  the  history  of  many  a  soul,  of  many  a 
one  who  is  here  present,  and  who  had  pursued  that 
reasoning  which  I  have  described— who  had  felt  in 
bis  mind  the  assurance  that  there  must  exist  on  earth 
a  living  Church— a  body  that  can  teach,  a  body  that 
can  guide,  a  body  that  is  the  depositary  of  truth- 
one  which  is  plain  and  simple,  one  which  makes  no 
doctrines,  one  which  unites  the  extremes  of  great  and 
Uttle  within  herself;  one,  also,  that  opens  her  mater- 


liat  pHMt- 
tate,  which 

0  religions 
md  in  Slip 
iioM  by  the 
[laturally— 
kbliahed  by 
eot  to  find 
t.  "Wher« 
jJewsT 

is  city  ar« 
distarbanoe 
d  anrnffled 
in  are  come 
is  trouble- 
tout  to  Hrise 

1  Jerusalem, 
they  seek. 

)  be  such  a 
e  Jerusalem 
(ethlehem,  a 
3,  perhaps,  if 

they  desire. 
I,  of  many  a 
ursued  that 

had  felt  in 
dst  on  earth 
a  body  that 
y  of  truth — 
;h  makes  no 
of  great  and 
)  her  mater- 


ON   TIIM   KPIPIIANr. 


49 


nal  hmom  to  give  noarishment  to  those  that  want  it, 
and  cifunses  from  niii,  and  strpngtheus  to  life  iu  Christ, 
which    the    soul    nciuires.      Many   a   one   who   has 
reasoned  thus,  and,  studying  the  Word  of  God,  lias 
•aid,  such  a  body,  such  a  kingdom,  such  a  society  must 
exist,  and  muat  have  these  great   charact  ristics  of 
unity,  firmness,  and  infallibility  in  teaching;  many  « 
one  who  pursues  this  reasoning,  this  star  that  guides 
him,  goes  at  once  there  where  all  his  feelings,  all  his 
sympathies,  where    all   his   natural    prejudices   even 
would  carry  him :  and  he  has  thought  that  there  it 
must  be  found— there  where  all  is  so  noble,  so  great, 
so  learned,   that   it   appears   outwardly   to  contain 
within  it  all  the  elements  of  which  he  is  in  search. 
They  have  gone  to  the  priests  of  that  Church,  to  the 
high  priests,  to  the  scribes  and  learned  men,  and  have 
asked  for  the  solution  of  their  doubts,  for  the  direo- 
tion  which  they  have  sought.     Wljat  has  been  the 
answer  they  have  received  ?     "  Do  you  come  to  seek 
for  exemption  from  doubts  as  to  yonr  faith  ?  do  you 
seek  to  avoid  the  painfulness  of  inquiry?   do  you 
come  to  us  to  reconcile  conflicting  opinions  by  pro- 
posing  to  yon  a  cert^.in,  fixed,  and  definite  mode  of 
belief?     We   profess  to  have   nought  of  the  kind 
among  us;  we  claim  not  the  power  thus  to  exempt 
you.    Do  you  come  to  us  for  an  infallible  creed,  for 
an  unerring  guide  who  will  teach  you  authoritatively 
and  with  certainty,  that  if  you  believe  every  word  it 
teaches,  you  believe  only  the  Word  of  God?     Go  to 
Rome,  you  that  want  doctrines  like  these ;  they  are 
found  in  the  Vatican,  they  are  taught  and  maintained 
in  the  Catholic  Church,  not  in  the  Apostolic  Church 


T 


J 


50 


OM  mi  sptpiiANr. 


of  Englftnd.  You  Imvo  come  to  niik  for  tlin  powflr  of 
npproiu^hing  iiflartsr  to  your  Saviour  incartmt«.  You 
lmv»)  ftn  i(l«'ft  iti  your  mirul  whl''h  is  the  result  of  your 
reniliujaf,  hut  which  U  (ulm  and  htMt-tical.  If  you  wiHh 
'to  approach  and  wornhip  Tiirn  uoarer,  go  to  denpisnnl 
Btithlehem— go  to  the  Catholic  Church:  you  will 
there  be  told  that  put  before  you  on  the  nltnr  ii 
truly  that  same  child  as  the  kings  found :  but  in 
our  Church  we  pretend  to  have  no  such  object  of 
adoration." 

Thus  baffled,  they  may  have  turned  away  disappoint- 
ed and  humbled,  with  broken  hearts  and  broken  hopes, 
and  fof  a  time  they  have  faltered,  whether  or  no  they 
should  give  up  the  search  for  ever;  for  they  from 
whom  they  expected  comfort  and  direction,  they  to 
whom  the  star  had  guided  them,  have  coldly  cast  them 
away.  But  no,  they  go  forth,  turning  their  backs  on 
those  false  leudei-s.  Their  star  will  reappear ;  the  same 
force  of  convincing  reasoning  will  tell  them  that  truth 
is  still  to  be  found  on  earth.  And  it  may  be  that 
they  think  where  indeed  are  they  to  find  it ;  but  be 
certain  that  the  guide  which  has  brought  them  thus 
far,  will  not  lead  them  wrong.  Yes,  they  have  turned 
their  backs  on  the  noble  cathedral,  and  on  the  pealing 
anthem,  and  its  sweet  and  ancient  recollections,  on  its 
elegant  discourses,  on  its  respectable  woi-shippers,  and 
they  must  move  away  sorrowing,  until  they  come  hith- 
er where  the  star  directs  them. 

Then  they  say,  "  Must  we  enter  here  ?  is  it  here 
that  we  are  to  find  what  has  appeared  so  great  and 
noble  in  our  minds,  greater  than  what  we  have  left  be» 
hind  ?    They  enter,  and  they  enter  precisely  as  did 


i«  ]V)Mrflr  of 
nate.  You 
uilt  of  your 
If  you  wihIj 
to  dempiiitKl 
:  you  will 
;he  Altar  it 
nd :  but  in 
ti  object  of 

(lisappoint- 
oken  liop»'«, 
'  or  no  they 
r  tht*y  from 
ion,  they  to 
ly  cnst  th«*ni 
ir  bnclcA  on 
ir ;  the  anme 
n  that  truth 
imy  be  that 
1  it ;  but  be 
t  them  thus 
have  turned 
i  the  pealing 
;tion8,  on  its 
ihippers,  and 
y  come  hith* 

?  is  it  here 
10  great  and 
have  left  b©- 
ibely  as  did 


OUT  m  tmpnAiTT. 


SI 


thfl  wIm  men  of  th«  Eawt.  For  if,  my  brethren,  you 
might  happen  to  \m  in  nomo  couutry-plaee  in  Kngland, 
what  r  hftv«nai<l  would  »>«  literally  true;  and  after*!, 
you  had  abandoned  for  over,  it  might  be  you  wo\.H^ 
have  to  pause  for  a  moment  on  the  threshold  of  Home 
garret,  or  loft  over  a  stable,  in  which  alone  the  Cath- 
olio  Church  is  allowed  to  offer  worship.  And  then 
you  would  go  in  with  thixie  wise  men ;  you  would 
ben«l  lowly  to  pass  under  the  humble  door;  you  would 
indeed  have  lost  f«ight  of  the  star,  but  you  would 
then  truly  believe  for  the  flrnt  time,  you  wouhl  then 
for  the  first  time  fall  down  mu\  mlore.  There  is  around 
yon  nothing  but  what  is  mean  and  humble.  There  are 
■hepherds  in  their  coarse  attire ;  there  are  reapers  from 
the  neighboring  island,  an  assembly  of  people  of  lowly 
and  poor  condition.  But  there  for  the  first  time  you 
feel  that  you  have  become  associated  with  the  Saints, 
with  the  patriarchs  and  the  apostles  of  the  Old  and  of 
the  New  Law,  who  bnng  you  into  communion  with  all 
that  is  great  and  holy  in  the  Old  ami  the  New  Testa- 
ment. There,  for  the  first  time,  you  become  acquaint- 
ed with  her  who  is  both  Mother  and  Virgin,  the  very 
thought  of  whom  speaks  tenderness  to  the  heart  of 
the  Catholic.  There,  for  the  first  time,  you  are  truly 
introduced  to  the  joy  of  earth  and  Heaven :  for  you 
are  in  the  presence  of  Ilim  whom  the  wise  men  of  the 
East  saw  and  adored ;  and  with  them  yon  believe  and 
adore.  To  believe  and  to  adore, — these  are  the  two 
great  objects  to  which  the  star  guides  every  one  that 
is  brought  to  the  Church  of  God;  and  these  two 
words  are  all  that  I  need  explain,  to  bring  this  dia- 
Aourse  to  its  conclusion. 


— TMBI 


g2  ON  TIIE  EPIPHANY. 

«  To  believe  1"  you  will  say.    «  Have  I  not  believed 
till  now?    I8  belief  more  than  a  sincere   deep  and 
earnest  conviction  of  the  truths  we  hold «      1  know 
not  how  I  can  better  describe  the  nature  of  true  be- 
lief  or  faith,  in  distinction  from  every  other  sort  of 
conviction  or  opinion,  than  by  reference  to  that  figure 
of  iLht  which  has  guided  us  .till  now     Dunug  the 
Le  that  you  have  been  seeking  after  the  Church  of 
God,  you  have  been  following  the  guidance  of  a  star. 
That  star  diffuses  no  light  around  yon;  it  is  a  lumin- 
ous  point  at  a  distance,  and  nothing  more     The  rav 
between  it  and  you  is  dark;  you  can  only  direct  your 
coui-se  towards  it.    But  it  enables  you  to  do  nothing 
more;  it  lights  not  even  your  path  on  your  journey ; 
Thelpsyounotto  read  the  inspired  book  that  you 
bear  with  you.    You  want  a  very  different  light  when 
'you  have  reached  your  goal.    To  illustrate  my  meaning 
I  suppose  that  it  is  your  wish  to  become  acquamted 
with  all  that  God  has  done  for  man  m  the  system  ot 
nature,  and  in  the  system  of  grace;  man's  destiny  and 
end ;  what  He  has  done  to  make  him  what  he  is,  and 
whai  he  is  to  be ;  in  fact,  the  whole  system  of  religion 
natural  and  revealed.    It  is  as  though  you  had  entered 
in  the  dark  into  a  g.-eat  and  magnificent  ediflce-let 
it  be  one  of  those  old  cathedrals  to  which  I  have  al- 

'^  Youtave'determined  to  make  yourself  ajjquainted 
with  the  whole  inteiior;  so  you  light  your  lamp,  and 
•  Ko  from  place  to  place,  and  examine  it  on  every  side. 
The  moment  you  cast  your  light  on  one  spot,  and  have 
briefly  illuminated  it  and  studied  it,  you  move  on  and 
it  returns  to  darkness :  that  shifting  light  only  gleams 


»aJJ!)aS.feMJ.>lt!.ai.WMBiiffi'^M^^^^ 


mmm 


b  Relieved 
deep,  and     • 

1  know 
»f  true  be- 
er sort  of 
that  figure 
during  the 
Church  of 
)  of  a  star. 
13  a  lumin- 
,    The  rav 
direct  your 
do  nothing 
ar  journey ; 
Ic  that  you 
light  when 
oy  meaning, 
I  acquainted 
B  system  of 
destiny  and 
\,t  he  is,  and 
I  of  religion, 
had  entered 
edifice — ^let 
i  I  have  al- 

f  acquainted 
ar  lamp,  and 
1  every  side, 
pot,  and  have 
move  on  Mid 
b  only  gleams 


r 


ox  THE  SPIPHAinr. 


M 


upon  single  objects.  You  raise  high  your  lamp,  and 
in  vain  endeavor  to  reach  the  loftier  parts  of  the  struc- 
ture. You  lower  it  into  the  crypt  below,  and  it  only 
discovers  impenetrable  gloom ;  and  there  are  parts  on 
every  side,  with  which  it  seems  impossible  that  you  can 
become  acquainted.  It  is  a  work  of  endless  search ; 
and,  in  the  end,  you  have  no  idea  of  the  bearing  of 
its  parts,  of  its  relative  proportions,  of  the  talents  of 
those  who  designed,  and  the  skill  of  those  who  erected 
the  structure. 

Then,  you  may  say,  I  will  not  be  thus  content  with 
my  own  small  light;  I  will  collect  the  brilliancy 
which  others'  wisdom  and  experience  have  cast  on  it. 
I  will  concentrate  the  lights  which  skilful  and  learned 
men  have  thrown  upon  it.  In  one  part  it  will  be  a 
torch  burning  with  single  but  with  biilliant  splendor ; 
in  other  parts,  there  will  be  collected  a  multitude  of 
tapers,  diffaisirig  their  joint  radiance  in  every  direction. 
And  what  is  the  result  ?  In  proportion  as  I  have  pro- 
duced a  dazzling  glare,  I  have  deepened  the  shades ; 
there  are  places  where  the  light  cannot  enter ;  it  can- 
jiiii,  soar  to  the  highest  and  most  delicate  portions  of 
the  structure :  it  cannot  find  its  way  into  the  gloom 
below ;  while  graceful  objects  are  cut  in  two  by  the 
light  and  shade,  and  made  to  appear  monstrous  by  the 
relative  forces  of  dark  and  luminous.  In  fine,  I  have 
made  myself  no  better  acquainted  with  the  edifice 
than  I  did  by  my  own  unaided  efforts. 

Then  what  ohall  i  do  s  Sit  down  and  weep,  and 
complain  that  God  has  made  religion  so  laborious, 
6noh  an  endless  task,  that  it  is  impossible,  by  the  com- 
bined genius  and  efforts  of  men,  ever  fully  to  explore 


l'WK^^IM■ta•MH 


: 


H»    II  IILU 


"*■»' 


54 


ON  THE   EPIPHANY/ 


it  ?  No  I  the  foolish  wisdom  of  this  world,  is  not  that 
the  light  that  you  have  kindled  ?  Wait  with  patience 
until  the  sun  shall  arise,  and  then  you  will  find  it  illu- 
minate the  whole  magnificent  edifice.  It  will  not  be 
a  ray,  but  a  light  which  will  not  strike  with  partial 
intensity  some  points,  but  will  diffuse  itself  throughout 
the  building ;  it  will  creep  into  every  nook  and  cranny, 
it  will  find  and  bring  every  beauty  t  it.  The  whole 
will  be  steeped  in  a  uniform  and  cheering  brightness, 
and  you  will  be  able  to  comprehend  the  harmony  of 
details,  and  the  grandeur  of  the  entire  structure. 

Those  lights  represent  reason  endeavoring  to  grasp 
and  comprehend  the  works  of  God ;  that  sun  that  hft3 
risen  is  faith,  which  convinces  you  more  than  any 
speculation  or  argument  can  do,  that  it  is  a  true  light 
which  God  has  given  you.    It  is  to  us  a  universal  ra- 
diance which  makes  us  acquainted  with  the  whole 
system  of  religion.    It  is  not  necessary  for  us  to  give 
up  three  or  four  years  to  the  reading  of  ancient  au- 
thoi-8,  in  order  to  discover  that  God  has  established 
His  Church  with  its  mighty  prerogatives  on  earth. 
We  need  not  devote  several  years  to  convincing  our- 
selves of  the  existence  of  a  sacramental  system.    We 
.have  no  necessity  to  come  and  study  the  historical 
monuments  of  Home,  in  order  to  satisfy  ourselves  of 
the  supremacy  of  Peter,  and  his  successora.    We  have 
not  to  satisfy  ourselves  that  the  intercession  of  sainta 
may  be  safely  practised ;  we  have  no  need  of  studying 
point  by  point  the  system  of  religion ;  but  the  whole 
of  it,  under  the  light  of  faith,  coheres,  and  is  so  equally 
lighted,  that  it  is  as  instinctively  clear  to  us  as  are  the 
objects  which  we  see  by  the  light  of  the  sun. 


".llWllfcl.'Ji<4lUiil')JA'..i'l- 


ON   THE   EPIPHANY. 


55 


9  not  that 
b  patience 
ind  it  illu- 
nW  not  be 
th  partial 
hroaghout 
ad  cranny, 
rhe  whole 
brightness, 
armony  of 
ture. 

g  to  grasp 
n  that  hfta 

than  any 
true  light 
liversal  ra- 
the whole 

ns  to  give 
ancient  an- 
sstablished 

on  earth, 
incing  our- 
item.  We 
)  historical 
urselves  of 

We  have 
a  of  sainta 
)f  studying 
;  the  whole 

so  equally 
>  as  are  the 
a. 


And  it  is  like  the  light  of  the  sun  to  us,  for  we  en- 
joy its  rays  as  it  comes  direct  to  our  souls,  or  as  it  is 
reflected  by  earthly  objects ;  by  it  we  walk ;  in  it  we 
recruit  ourselves ;  under  it  we  refresh  ourselves ;  we 
enjoy  it,  even  as  we  do  the  air  of  heaven  ;  we  bask  in 
it ;  we  inhale  it  in  our  hearts ;  we  feel  it  in  our  inmost 
principles  and  souls.  The  whole  of  religion  to  us  is 
80  natural,  so  simple,  that  faith  supersedes  every  other 
inward  light;  it  often  supersedes  those  intellectual 
lights,  which  others  use  to  relish  the  beauties  that  sur- 
round us.  And  we  find  oureelves  in  the  full  posses- 
sion and  understanding  of  that  knowledge  which 
to  others  has  been  the  object  of  endless  research. 

The  wise  men,  as  soon  as  they  entered  the  stable  of 
Bethlehem,  believed  far  more  than  wh0&  the  priests  of 
Jerusalem  instructed  them,  or  when  the  star  firat  ap- 
peared. For  the  sight  of  the  infant  and  the  smile  of 
His  countenance,  enkindled  within  them  the  light  of 
faith ;  so  that  each  was  ready,  at  once  to  die  for  that 
little  which  he  had  seen.  And  so  those  who  have 
laboriously  toiled,  and  found  their  way  into  the  Cath- 
olic Church,  expedience  a  new  sense  developed  within 
them, — a  sense  which  as  naturally  takes  in  the  spirit- 
ual light,  as  the  eyes  of  those  whom  our  Lord  miracu- 
lously cured  received  the  light  of  heaven.  Thus  they 
find  themselves  on  a  level  with  those  who,  from  their 
infancy,  have  been  nurtured  in  the  Church :  for  faith, 
which  is  bestowed  by  the  sacraments,  enables  them  to 
receive,  without  doubting,  every  doctrine  that  is 
taught  them.  • 

And  once  believing,  they  for  the  first  time  adore. 
For  adoration  is  not  what  may  be  considered  the 


i 


*^ 


! 


r 


T 


4mm 


S6 


OW  THE  EPIPHANY. 


privilege  or  posseaaion  of  any  one  who  believes  ia 
God  •  it  does  not  consist  in  an  act  of  worship,  where- 
by  we  acknowledge  Him  as  God,  whereby  we  express 
our  gratitude  to  Him,  or  entreat  His  mercies.     It 
consists  in  an  awful,  yet  sweetest  feeling,  that  you 
are  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  in  very  contact  of  God, 
yea,  of  God  in  the  flesh,  like  as  they  felt  of  whom  we 
read  that  they  cast  themselves  down  at  His  feet  and 
worshipped  Eim.    It  consists  in  the  annihilation  of 
the  very  powers  of  the  soul,  which  leads  to  the  pros- 
tration of  the  body,  its  natural  representative,  on  the 
very  ground  beneath  Him.    It  consists  in  the  assur- 
ance that  His  hand  is  extended  over  us,  that  His  eye 
is  fixed  on  us,  that  His  heart  darts  rays  of  compassion 
and  love  to  our  hearts,  as  if  they  were  beating  the 
one  on  the  other.    Then  we  feel  as  St.  John  must 
have  felt  at  the  Last  Supper;  or  as  St.  Peter,  when 
he  begged  Him  to  depart  from  him,  a  sinful  man ;  or 
as  the  wise  kings,  when  they  kissed  His  feet,  an  m- 
fant  in  His  mother's  arms;  with  a  love  which  burnt 
up  self  in  sacrifice,  pure  and  unreserving.  • 

This  is,  then,  the  coui-se  which  God  has  always  fol- 
lowed,  from  the  first  manifestation  of  the  star  to  the 
individual,  until  he  is  united  to  that  mass  of  worship- 
pers and  believere  who  stand  around  His  altar,  with- 
out  distinction  as  to  their  arrival  earlier  or  later, 
whether  they  have  come  to  venerate  at  the  dawn  of 
day,  or  not  until  the  setting  of  the  sun. 

Nothing  now  remains,  my  brethren,  but  to  address 
to  you  a  few  words  of.  exhortation,  that  you  study 
well  the  lessons  which  our  Gospel  gives  you,  and  to 
endeavor  to  arrive  at  what  it  points  out. 


I 


HHHiimUMM,U»i. 


r 


(lieves  in 
p,  where- 
e  express 
rcies.     It 
that  you 
;t  of  God, 
whom  we 
s  feet  and 
Illation  of 
» the  pros- 
ve,  on  the 
the  assur- 
at  His  eye 
ompassion 
leating  the 
Fohn  must 
eter,  when 
il  man ;  or 
feet,  an  in- 
hich  burnt 

always  fol- 

* 

star  to  the 
of  worship- 
altar,  with- 
sr  or  later, 
he  dawn  of 

b  to  address 
you  study 


I 


■"»--   ■  I'll 


ON  THE   EPIPHANY. 


8T 


yo», 


and  to 


To  you  that  have  recently  received,  and  are  now  in 
possession  of,  this  faith ;  to  you  who  have  gone 
through  the  course  Which  I  have  inadequately  de- 
scribed, who  have  had  to  part  with  your  homes  and 
to  turn  your  backs  on  all  that  was  dearest  to  you  on 
earth ;  to  you  who  manfully  set  out  on  the  search, 
and.  having  crossed  the  shifting  desert  of  speculation, 
having  wandered  through  many  regions  of  theoiy, 
came  at  last  to  what  you  deemed  the  true  Jerusalem, 
and  were  pushed  aside,  and  left  to  go  on  your  way 
sorrowing ;  to  you  who,  having  experienced  the  pang 
of  separation  from  whatever  seemed  holy,  and  was 
dearest  to  your  best  affections,  and  having  felt  a  pain- 
ful shudder  at  stooping  over  the  threshold  of  a  very 
stable,  now  find  yourselves  associated  with  those 
whom  you  had  previously  despised, — to  you,  as  to 
ourselves,  I  can  •  only  speak  those  splendid  words  of 
prayer  which  the  Church  repeats  in  the  Collect  of 
this  day,  "that  we,  who  have  known  the  only- 
begotten  Son  of  God  always  by  faith,  may  be  led 
forward  on  the  fux-ther  part  of  our  pilgrimage,  to 
attaining  the  contemplation  of  His  sublime  dignity  in 
Heaven." 

You  who  have  now  your  path  before  you  clear  and 
distinct, — who  are  no  longer  guided  by  the  doubtful 
light  of  a  little  star,  but  walk  in  broad  daylight,  in  the 
sunshine  of  the  faith,  vrhich  shows  you  every  danger, 
and  lays  bare  every  snare,  which  shows  you  at  every 
step  the  hand  of  your  directing  mother,  guiding  you 
to  the  altar  of  God, — ^you  I  exhort  to  go  on  rejoicing, 
till  you  obtain  that  reward  which  the  Lord  has  in 
store  for  faithful  combatants.  • 


i 


I 


■  s 


T 


mm 


mmSk 


68 


ON  THE  EFIPlIAinr. 


'    . 


Bat  yon,  who  do  not  feel  yom-Belves  yet  nmveil  at 
this  place  of  rest,  I  bid  you  look  aroond,  and  say  If  no 
Biar  haa  appeared  to  you.     Mark  well  its  laws:   it 
may  be  found  in  the  secret  reproaches  of  conscience, 
or  in  the  discomforts  of  an  unsettled  faith ;  it  may  be 
met  in  what  you  see,  in  that  which  you  know  of  what 
God  is  working,  by  the  great  direction  that  lie  is  giv- 
ing so  many  good  and  learned  men  towards  one  point. 
But  if  you  find  that  there  is  any  slight  proof— one 
least  sign  which  tells  you,  that  there  must  be  some- 
thing better  than  what  you  now  enjoy,  or  even  that 
there  may  be,  then  take  into  your  hearts  the  courage 
of  the  wise  men  of  the  East,  amd  set  forth,  with  hum- 
ble  offerings,  to  seek  your  King.    You  will  find  Him 
infallibly  here,  where  alone  He  is  to  be  found.    It 
will  not,  indeed,  be  your  final  resting-place;  you  will 
not  find  a  lasting  and  enduring  city.    No,  you  will 
have  still  to  aim  at  another.    You  will  go  from  your 
Jerusalem  to  Bethlehem;  but  from  Bethlehem  your 
way  lies  to  the  Jerusalem  that  is  above.    You  will 
rest  for  a  few  momenta  here  below ;  you  will  receive 
peace  of  conscience  through  forgiveness  of  your  sins ; 
you  will  be  refreshed  with  the  bread  of  life  -.—and 
then  you  will  rise  up  again,— and  join  the  pilgnms 
who  have  passed  that  way  before  you,  onward  to 
heaven,  forward  to  God. 


T 


innveil  nt 
Bay  If  no 
laws:   it 
onscience, 
it  may  be 
V  of  what 
Ele  is  giv- 
one  point, 
roof— -one 
be  feome- 
even  that 
e  courage 
Hrith  huiu* 
find  Him 
!buud.    It 
;  you  will 
,  you  will 
from  your 
hem  your 
You  will 
ill  receive 
your  sins ; 
life : — and 
B  pilgrims 
inward  to 


SERMON  III. 
<!Dur  J^nviour  in  tbt  ^mpU» 

LmcK.  U.  46,  47. 

"And  It  cune  to  paM,  that  aftpr  threo  days  they  fonnd  Jesni  <n  the  T«m- 
pie,  aittiiig'  in  the  midst  of  tho  docton,  hoAring  them  and  anking  tlicm 
questions.  A^-d  all  that  heard^  Uim  were  aatoolshed  at  Ilia  wisdom  and 
His  anawon." 

Thb  Gospel  of  to-day,  from  which  I  have  drawn 
these  words,  relates  how  our  Saviour,  when  twelve 
years  old,  was  unwittingly  lei't  in  Jerusalem  by  His 
blessed  parents,  and  after  three  days'  fruitless  search, 
found  by  them  in  the  Temple,  conferring  with  the 
doctoi-s  of  the  Jewish  law.  With  the  exception  of 
this  incident,  the  inspired  records  have  concealed  from 
our  knowledge  all  the  events  of  His  life  between  His 
return  from  Egypt  and  His  final  manifestation  unto 
Israel.  And  if  we  inquire  wherefore  this  anecdote 
alone  h^  been  withdrawn  from  under  so  close,  and 
doubtless  so  mysterious  a  veil,  I  would  suggest,  that 
the  purpose  of  the  Gospel-history  is  only  to  record 
those  events  which  belonged  to  our  blessed  Redeem- 
er's public  life.  And  though  no  doubt  many  lessons 
of  ^  ire  and  holy  wisdom  were  to  be  leanied  from 
His  domestic  and  retired  life ;  though  His  meekness  to 
His  companions,  His  cheerfulness  in  poverty  and  dis- 


i 


i 


T 


T~ 


tummkmm 


60 


OUB  SAVIOUR   in  Tim  TKMPr.K. 


treis,  His  MsWulty  in  the  work  of  Hi«  liurablo  calling, 
Hill  kind  charity  to  th«  poor,  His  tender  attention  and 
dotifulness  to  Hin  parents,  must  have  appeared  to  us 
exceedingly  beautiftil,  and  most  proRtabie,  too,  had 
we  been  shown  how  well  they  became,  in  Htm,  the 
winning  age  of  childhood,  yet  were  they  directi-d 
rather  to  the  edification  of  a  few  more  favored  souls 
than  to  general  instruction. 

But  on  the  occasion  alone  described  in  this  Gospel, 
He  Himself  smerges  fVom  the  obscure  retirement 
which  He  had  voluntarily  chosen  ;  and,  like  His  father 
David,  who  came  forward,  yet  a  stripling,  to  vanquish 
Goliath,  ad  then  returned  to  his  homely  life,  as  if  to 
give  earnest  of  the  prowess  he  should  display  when 
called  at  manhood  to  greatw  endeavors,  so  did  He 
come  forth  at  this  tender  age  to  meet,  and  skirmish 
with,  those  whom  He  should  later  encounter  with 
sterner  and  more  fixed  determination. 

And,  wherefore,  we  may  still  further  ask,  this  inter- 
ruption of  His  unpretending  course,  and  this  preraa- 
tare  expoeuro  to  the  jealousy  of  His  future  adversa- 
ries? Not  surely  from  any  of  that  forward  less  and 
petulance  which  not  seldom  disfigures  that  age,  nor 
fh)m  the  ambition  of  display  which  blemishes  ^ 
often  precocious  geniu-,  nor  yet  from  the  zealous  de- 
aire  to  hasten  Hia  day  of  manifestation,  which  even  a 
virtuous  soul  might  well  have  felt ;  but  rather  that  He 
miffht  exhibit,  while  only  in  His  own  pereon  He  could 
the  strong  contrast  between  the  old  dispensation  and 
that  which  He  came  to  establish ;  inasmuch  as  stand- 
ing,  a.diUd,  amidst  the  aged  and  hoary  elders  of  the 
synagogue,  He  aptly  brought  together,  and  opposed  to 


0  calling, 
otion  and 
red  to  us 
too,  hud 
Him,  tho 
directed 
red  souls 

is  Gospel, 
etireraent 
Its  father 
vanquish 
e,  as  if  to 
jlay  when 

0  did  He 
skirmish 

nter  with 

this  inter- 
ns preraa- 
e  adversa- 
■d  less  and 
,t  age,  nor 
nishes  too 
zealous  dd> 
lich  even  a 
ler  that  He 

1  He  could, 
sation  and 
I  as  stand* 
lers  of  the 
opposed  to 


I 


OUB  SAVIOUR   IK   THE  TKMPLK. 


•1 


each  other,  the  chosen  types  and  emblema  of  the  old 
and  new  covenants. 

For,  in  thu  Jewish  law,  old  age  wan  tho  favorite 
symbol  of  wisdom  and  virtue,  to  which  were  to  be  paid 
all  deference  and  submission.  The  young  were  com- 
manded greatly  to  reverence  and  stand  in  awe  of  its 
slowly-gathered  experience,  and  exhorted  to  imitate 
the  gravity  and  sednteness  of  its  deportment.  In  its 
books  of  wise  counsels,  natural  want  of  grey  hnirs  is 
always  mentioned  as  a  defect  to  be  partially  remedied 
by  superior  sense ;  while  throughout  the  old  legisla- 
tion, the  child^s  estate  is  hardly  attended  to,  save  ns 
one  of  restraint  and  thraldom,  so  that  he  is  scarcely 
raised  a  degree  above  a  servant  or  a  slave. 

But  the  religion  of  Jesus  has  precisely  reversed  this 
standard  and  its  emblem.  It  was  to  be  the  religion 
not  of  harsh  restraint  and  severe  authority,  but  of  filial 
love  and  of  brotherly  love ;  not  of  acquired  wisdom, 
but  of  infused  grace;  not  of  virtue  with  much  toil 
hardly  purchased,  but  of  innocence  preserved  unstained ; 
not  of  imposing  and  venerable  exteiior,  but  of  free  and 
fi'esh,  natural  and  unpresuming  perfection. 

Hence,  His  apostles  and  followers  were  especially 
charged  to  preserve  the  virtues  of  His  little  ones,  as 
being  the  dearest  portion  of  God's  flock.  And,  in- 
stead of  the  child  being  exhorted,  as  heretofore,  to 
shape  its  conduct  after  the  model  of  age,  the  old  and 
experienced  are  commanded  to  copy  the  child,  and 
imitate  its  artless  virtue  and  unconscious  innocence. 
And  as  such  a  type  of  His  owa  religion,  and  such  a 
model  for  our  stv  iy,  doth  Jesus  appear  before  us  this 
day,  in  mild  and  beautiful  contrast  with  the  sterner 


»>maart 


^^^••.4 


*4m 


\ 


69 


OUR  tlAVIOUR   IN   Tlli:   TKMI'LK. 


features  of  the  aged  religion,  reprefienting  in  IlirnRelf 
nil  thti  guileless  simplicity  which  was  to  be  th«  cha^ 
actenstic  of  His  own  in  doctrinu  and  in  practice ;  He 
BtandH  OH  the  child  placed  in  the  midst  of  all,  however 
venerable,  however  learned,  however  holy,  like  unto 
whom  must  neceasarily  become,  whosoever  winhes  to 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  Heaven. 

Twofold  U  this  characteristic  of  simplicity  in  the 
child,  and  therefore  twofold  roust  it  be  in  tha  Ghruh 
tian :  as  it  affects  the  understanding,  and  this  is  docility; 
as  it  affects  the  heart,  and  this  is  innocence.  Docility 
will  direct  his  belief,  and  innocence  will  sanctify  hU 
condutct. 

Our  blessed  Savi  oar,  after  He  had  severely  reproved 
their  folly  who  had  refused  to  listen  to  His  words,  thus 
solemnly  exclaimed  in  prayer :  "  I  give  thanks  to  thee, 
O  Father,  Lord  of  heaven  and  of  eartli,  because  thou 
hast  hid  these  things  from  the  wise  and  prudent  ones, 
and  hast  revealed  them  to  little  ones.  Yea,  Father,  for 
so  it  hath  seemed  good  in  thy  sight"    (Matt.  xi.  25.) 

What,  my  brethren,  mean  these  awful  words  ?  What 
is  faith  (some  would  say)  but  a  strong  couvic'  ic  i  which 
is  the  oflbpring  of  knowledge ;  and  is  not  this  the  ao 
quisiiion  of  the  wise  and  of  the  prudent )  Shall  not  the 
philosopher,  whose  mind  has  been  trained  by  long  ez< 
ercise  to  habits  of  deep  thought,  dive  into  the  abyss 
of  truth  more  eiaily,  and  bring  up  thence  its  hidden 
treasures  more  securely  than  the  dull  illiterate  rustic, 
who  can  scarcely  raise  his  thoughts  above  the  clod 
which  he  tills?  Shall  not  the  subtile  jurist,  accus- 
tomed to  weigh  the  force  of  evidence,  and  the  justice 
of  legal  decisions,  more  fully  apprehend,  and  mt)re 


OUR  HAVIOUIt   Iff   TIIK  TUMPMS. 


6S 


a  HiniBelf 
I  thtj  char- 
cttce;  He 
I,  however 
like  unto 
witthes  to 

Ity  in  the 
tha  Chiiip 
8  docility; 
Docility 
inctify  h\4 

T  reproved 
rords,  thus 
ks  to  thee, 
:au8o  thou 
dent  ones, 
father,  for 
t.  xi.  26.) 
ds?  What 
fit  1  which 
\x\»  the  ao> 
all  not  the 
y  long  ex. 
the  abyss 
its  hidden 
•ate  rustic, 
)  the  clod 
rist,  accos- 
;he  justice 
and  mt>re 


highly  valiKt,  tho  l)«AUty  and  perfection  of  the  Divine 
law,  than  the  unlt-tU'red  artisan  who  has  never  even 
heard  of  the  principled  whereby  such  investigations 
are  ruled  7  At  least,  iihall  not  the  theologian,  versed 
in  the  knowledge  of  sacred  Scriptures,  and  in  the  max* 
inis  of  ecclesiafttical  nntiquity,  more  accurately  pene- 
trate, and  more  deeply  reverence  the  holy  dogmas  and 
dispensations  of  religion,  than  a  foolitib,  unsteady, 
unreflecting  child  ? 

No,  my  brethren,  not  one  of  thera,  except  inasmuch 
as,  Hcoming  hia  deai'-bougbt  acquireoient^,  be  brings 
his  reason  to  the  same  standard  of  docility  as  charoo 
tcri-Hes  that  child.  For,  so  far  from  fuith  being  like 
what  we  call  knowledge,  it  is  both  in  its  objects  and 
its  mo<le  of  acquisition  every  way  very  different.  Our 
study  and  knowledge  here  below  is  but  timt  of  the 
]>erpetual  captive,  who  scans  and  explores  the  walls  of 
his  prison  cell  To  beguile  the  time,  he  will,  perhaps, 
oftentimes  measum  their  heigh  f.  and  breadth  and  mas- 
sive proportions;  and  he  will  calculate  the  hours  of 
his  nightly  darkness  and  of  his  daily  twilight ;  or  he 
will  watc^ii  in  their  toil  or  their  sportiveness  the  in- 
sects that  share  with  him  his  narrow  abode ;  or  he 
will  sometimes  be  glad  to  hear  consolation  from  some 
one  whose  chain  sighs  echo  to  his  owu.  He  will 
amuse  himself,  perchance,  awhile,  by  many  ingenious 
devices  and  uew  arrangements,  that  bear  a  mocking 
semblance  of  novelty  and  variety.  Then  he  has,  too, 
his  sculptured  monuments  and  written  records  to 
Btady,  rudely  carved  upon  the  walls  around  him; 
their  annals  who  have  inhabited  his  prison-house  be- 
fore him,  the  lords  of  the  dungeon,  who  thought  their 


r 


64 


OUR  SAVIOUR   IN   THR  TKMPLK. 


DtmM  and  deetU  worth  inscribing  for  their  iiucc<»8it>r8 
to  decipher.  And  after  theac  Mcupations  his  head, 
too,  may  ache,  like  any  philosopher'!*,  and  his  «y«  '*«• 
come  dimmed,  and  hia  face  look  pale,  and  hia  limbn  he 
languid.  Alas,  poor  captive  I  could  thy  eye  but  for 
one  moment  pierce  the  low-browed  vaults  of  thy 
bondagehouae,  and  plunge  with  the  dove  into  the 
deep-blue  ocoan  of  Heaven  above  thee,-- couldst  thou 
but  for  one  instant  gaze,  even  at  the  risk  of  Iwsing 
daazled,  upon  that  glorious  throne  of  brightness, 
whose  sidelong  ray  lights  up,  and  cheers,  even  thy 
sorrowful  dwelling,  or  commune  with  those  happier 
beings  who  inhale  to  the  full  its  warmth  and  radiance, 
how  would  that  one  glance,  no  longer  in  imagination 
but  in  reality,  be  worth  all  the  lonely  and  wearim»me 
lessons  of  thy  captive  houi-s !  and  although  the  fetters 
might  still  gripe  thy  limbs,  and  the  iron  of  captivity 
still  be  fixed  in  thy  soul,  thou  wouldst  no  longer  feel 
bowed  by  the  weight  of  the  one,  or  tortured  by  the 
other*s  smart. 

Now,  my  brethren,  as  these  vain  beguilements  of  a 
prisoned  life  is  human  knowledge,  and  such  as  that 
glance  would  be,  is  heavenly  faith.  After  you  have 
studied  nature  in  its  grandest  or  minutest  parts ;  after 
you  have  condensed  into  one  small  mass  the  expe- 
rience and  wisdom  of  ages,  yoa  have  but  studied,  and 
learnt  at  much  cost,  the  qualities  and  prerogatives  of 
your  place  of  durance ;  and  it  is  only  by  plausible 
conjecture,  or  delusive  fancy,  that  you  can  pass  be- 
yond its  bounds.  But  faith  comes  in  by  her  own 
power  and  energy  to  our  relief,  and  makes  a  bright 
light  of  Heaven  to  shine  around  our  place  of  thraldom; 


9  ■ 


OUB  aAVIOUR    IN  TIIK  TKMFIB. 


66 


•  Huccessort 
I  his  he«d, 
his  wye  he- 
lis  limbs  )»6 
ye  but  for 
ilU  of  thy 
•e  into  the 
suldat  thou 
ik  of  being 
brightnem, 
I,  even  thy 
tee  happier 
1(1  radinnce, 
imagination 
wearimtme 
I  the  fotters 
if  captivity 
longer  feel 
ired  by  the 

sments  of  a 
ich  as  that 
r  you  have 
parts;  after 
}  the  expe- 
ntudied,  and 
srogativea  of 
)y  plansible 
an  pass  be- 
)y  her  own 
es  a  bright 
)f  thraldom; 


and  not  so  content,  itrikMi  bur  side,  bidding  us  to 
arise  and  gird  our  garments  around  uh,  and  sliake  off 
,  our  fettei-s,  nnd  showM  m  through  the  iron  gate,  that 
will  op«'n  as  we  appn)ach — the  holy  and  lu-avenly 
JeruHuU'Ui — the  plate  of  <»ur  true  abode.     For,  "Faith 
is  the  foundation  of  things  to  be  hoped  for:    the 
demonstration  of  things  not  appearing."    (Hob.  xii.  1.) 
Faith,  therefore,  belongs  in  its  objects  to  anothor 
sphere  of  things  from  knowledge,  and,  consequently, 
is  not  to  1)0  ac(iuii  ed  by  the  Harne  means ;  the  one  is  a 
bread  prepare«l  and  made  by  the  hands  of  man,  the 
other  a  manna  which  comes  down  to  u"4  from  h«'aven. 
Knowledge  is  the  progress  of  the  understanding,  ns  it 
inarches  forward  erect,  panting  and  proud,  on  its  toil- 
some p  ith  :    faith  in  its  breath  less  prostration  before 
the  wifcdom  of  God.      In  it,  reason,  purely  passive, 
must  bt  cast  on  the  ground,  like  (Jideon's  fleece,  to 
drink  in  the  soft  calm  dew  which  falls  unheard  from 
heaven,   and   penetrates   and    fills,  and    aliments   it 
thoroughly  with  its  celestial  principle.     Or,  rather,  the 
entire  soul  lies  as  earth  without  water  before  God,  di- 
lating its  wide  capacity,  rending  itself  open  on  every 
side,  and  distending  every  pore,  till  it  draws  in,  with 
deep  thirsty  draughts,  the  life-giving  wisdom  which  He 
rains  upon  i*,  and  mingling  its  whole  being  with  the 
pure  element  descending  from  above.     It  is  as  of  old, 
when  the  Divine  Majesty  was  to  be  revealed  to  the 
prophet's  spirit;    it  is  only  with  our  heads  closely 
veiled,  and  our  foreheads  buried  in  the  dust,  and  our 
entii'e  frame  in  still  and  motionless  adoration,  that  we 
shall  abide  the  approach  and  passage  of  the  awful  rev- 
elation; yea,  and  even  when  gladder  visions  of  j<>y 


-)   ; 


■•VMH 


ir^ 


66 


OUR  8AVI0UK   IN  THE  TK.MPLK. 


and  salvation  are  displayed,  as  on  Mount  Thabor,  wo 
must  sink  upon  the  ground  with  the  chosen  three,  nor 
dare  to  raise  our  heads,  to  pry  too  curiously  into  the 
light  and  voice  which  are  communicated  to  us. 

Such,  my  dear  brethren,  is  faith  in  its  acquisition  : 
it  is  the  union  of  the  soul's  intellectual  powers  with 
the  wisdom  of  God,  just  as  charity  is  of  its  afiFections 
with  His  goodness ;  it  is  the  obedience  of  the  under- 
standing, it  is  the  humility  of  reason. 

Hence  is  a  child-like  docility  the  principal  disposi- 
tion to  obtain  and  to  keep  it.  So  soon  as  the  child 
Samuel  answered  the  voice  he  had  twice  heard,  by 
saying  "Speak,  O  Lord,  for  thy  servant  heareth," 
(1  Reg.  iii.  10),  the  mysteries  of  God's  counsels  were 
laid  open  to  him.  So  whoever  becoming  a  child  like 
him,  shall  call  out  in  like  words,  may  well  hope  the 
same  favor,  if  he  happen  to  be  in  a  state  of  ignorance 
or  delusion. 

And  in  this  docility  of  the  youthful  prophet  we  see 
exemplified  its  principal  manifestation — ^prayer.  Who- 
ever feels  that  his  faith  is  weak  or  insecure,  whoever 
is  conscious  of  uneasiness  in  his  belief  on  any  point,  of 
a  desire  to  inquire  more  deeply  into  doctrines  which 
he  has  been  formerly  taught  to  despise,  or  of  a  certain 
habitual  uneasiness  and  restlessness  of  mind,  6ucU  as 
accompany  the  forebodings  of  coming  evil,  though  we 
know  not  for  what  cause,  let  such  a  one  turn  himself 
to  God,  and  entreat  Him,  with  all  earnestness  and  hu- 
mility, to  lay  open  unto  him  His  ways,  and  to  guide 
him  along  them,  and  assuredly  he  will  thereby  profit 
more,  and  learn  more,  and  receive  more  sure  dii*ec- 
tions,  than  by  all  his  study  and  inquiry.  ^ 


iftfmfi-mmil^rmmfmA^mm^'^^ 


OUR  8AVI0UB  IN  TUE  TEMPLE. 


67 


habor,  we 
three,  nor 
f  into  the 

IS. 

tquisition : 

wers  with 

affections 

he  under- 

al  disposi- 

t  the  child 

heard,  by 

heareth," 
asels  were 
,  child  like 
I  hope  the 

ignorance 

het  we  see 
'er.  "Who- 
j,  whoever 
y  point,  of 
ines  which 
►f  a  certain 
Ld,  jfiiich  as 
thongh  we 
irn  himself 
3SS  and  hu- 
1  to  guide 
•eby  profit 
sure  dii*ec- 


Directly  opposed  to  this  youthful  docility  is  evei^ 
system  which  introduces  pride  or  self-confidence  among 
the  ingredients  of  faith.  The  idea  that  our  creed 
must  be  the  production  of  our  own  genius, — that  be- 
cause we  are  gifted  with  better  abilities,  or  have  re- 
ceived superior  education,  our  religion  must  be  of  a 
more  enlightened  order  than  others  can  hold,  who  are 
less  highly  accomplished, — that  in  short  we  must,  by 
our  individnat  study,  decide  what  we  will  believe  and 
what  we  will  reject :  all  such  principles  as  these  are  in 
direct  opposition  to  the  symbol  of  true  Christianity : 
you  become  not  as  a  child  when  you  reason  thus,  and, 
therefore,  you  enter  not  thus  into  the  kingdom  of 
Heaven. 

And  might  not  I  say,  that  to  speak  of  each  one's 
having  to  make  out  by  study  his  own  creed,  is  in  rea- 
son  as  absurd  as  to  speak  of  each  one's  having  to  ar- 
range, in  like  manner,  his  own  system  of  astronomy  ? 
The  laws  which  regulate  the  moral  world  are  not  less 
fixed  than  those  which  govern  the  visible ;  only  one 
system  can  be  true  in  either;  and  whoever  undertakes 
to  fabricate  that  one  by  his  own  unaided  skill  will 
assuredly  fail. 

No  less  opposed  to  the  docility  of  Christian  faith  is 
all  obstinacy  and  pertinacity  in  clinging  to  our  own 
opinions,  the  moment  they  have  been  satisfactorily 
confuted ;  all  unchristian  heat  and  acrimony,  and  un- 
charitableness  in  religious  disputation ;  all  lurking  de- 
sire, in  fine,  that  we  may  triumph  and  not  the  truth. 
For,  how  do  you  imagine  to  yourselves  the  blessed 
-Child,  of  whom  this  day's  Gospel  speaks,  to  have  look- 
ed and  conversed  among  the  Jewish  doctors  ?    Do  you 


T 


!!■>  II     ilri»ii  iirtr   I    I   -     '*     ' — '"•  '   -■■ -— J^"^''*-*'^ 


ll  t  III 'I  J 


i.iiliiW"'ihifW 


UJggf^LjUJ^ 


II  iiip  iNiBp^M  ■.!  •  ■■wwwi 


68 


OUE  SAVIOUR   IN  TIIB  TKJIPLE. 


fancy  Him  a  lively,  ready,  forward  boy,  with  keen, 
restless  eye,  and  unsteady  gait,  eagerly  watching  the 
moment  when  He  could  thrust  in  His  remarks,  ever 
studying,  by  perplexing  questions,  to  confound,  or  by 
smart  repartee,  to  shame,  the  venerable  elders  who 
surrounded  Him  ?  For  my  part,  I  would  rather  rep- 
resent Him  as  a  sweet  and  gentle  and  bashful  child, 
whose  downcast  looks,  and  clear  open  brow,  and  mild 
calm  features,  should  appear  to  the  t)ystandei-8  to 
cover  such  a  heaven  of  innocence,  and  such  an  abyss 
of  wisdom,  as  neither  child  nor  sage  had  ever  before 
singly,  nor  angel  unitedly,  possessed.  And  I  would 
suppose  Him  listening  to  their  discourses  in  modest 
silence,  and  with  an  air  of  respectful  del  jrence,  putting 
His  questions  as  one  who  deeply  venerated  the  author- 
ity He  interrogated ;  teaching  those  around  Him  as 
one  who  only  learnt,  and  astonishing  all  by  the  art 
with  which  He  in  reality  scattered  flowers  of  heaven- 
ly wisdom,  while  He  appeared  only  to  be  gathering 
those  which  were  of  earth.  Such,  then,  is  the  Chris- 
tian's type  who  seeks  for  religious  wisdom,  that  is, 
faith.  He  must  be  as  a  child ;  and  the  child  Jesus 
hath  been  pleased,  in  this  instance,  to  stand  in  person 
as  his  model. 

In  fine,  this  having  been  given  us  as  the  type  of 
Christ's  religion,  it  may  often  serve  many  to  correct 
the  severe  judgments  they  are  tempted  to  pronounce 
on  others'  practices  and  conduct.  Ai*e  your  eyes  un- 
used to  see  marks  of  respect  and  devotion  shown  to 
religious  representations,  or  to  material  object*  conse- 
crated by  holy  recollections ;  and  does  the  practice,*  a» 

*In  Borne. 


m 


m^. 


OUR  SAVIOUR  IN  TIIK  TIfiMPLE. 


69 


with  keen, 
atching  the 
marks,  ever 
ound,  or  by 
elders  who 

rather  rep- 
ishful  child, 
Wj  and  mild 
standera  to 
ih  an  abyss 
ever  before 
id  I  would 
I  in  modest 
nee,  putting 
L  the  author- 
nd  Him  as 
I  by  the  art 

of  heaven- 
>e  gathering 
8  the  Chris- 
>m,  that  is, 
child  Jesns 
id  in  person 

the  type  of 
r  to  correct 
>  pronounce 
our  eyes  un- 
oc  shown  to 
:)ject«  conse- 
practice,*  as 


yon  witn««  it  here,  strike  you  as  offensive  to  God  ? 
"Why,  study  how  a  child  shows  its  affection  to  those 
whom  it  loves,  and  see  if  it  does  not  treasure  up  any 
little  record  of  their  kindness,  and  lavish  its  affecti'  -^ 
upon  their  portraits  and  images.  "Wherefore,  they 
who  do  these  things  thereby  become  as  little  children, 
rather  than  you  who  reprove  them. 

Are  your  ears  sometimes  shocked  by  the  warm  and 
enthusiastic  forms  of  supplication  which  you  hear,  and 
do  you  feel  tempted  to  pronounce,  when  you  see  such 
unchecked  outbreaks  of  devotional  feeling  in  the  poor 
and  simple,  that  there  is  too  much  of  passion  and 
emotion  in  their  religion,  and  too  little  conviction  and 
reason  1  I  will  only  ask  yon,  are  you  then  offended 
when  you  hear  the  child  express  its  love  in  the  artless 
poetry  of  passion,  and  pour  our  its  feelings  warm  and 
rich  ca  they  flow  from  its  unspoiled  heart;  or  can 
you  think  that  He  who  gave  us  the  child  as  the  sym- 
bol of  the  Christian's  belief,  wished  thereby  to  denote 
that  intellect  and  not  feeling,  reasoning  and  not  rather 
emotion,  was  to  be  its  principle,  its  guide,  its  security, 
and  its  very  soul  ? 

Are  you  scandalised,  perchance,  at  the  apparent  lev- 
ity which  this  people  seems  sometimes  to  mingle  with 
its  most  serious  duties, — at  the  absence  of  those  demure 
looks  and  that  formal  exterior,  which  in  our  colder 
north  is  considered  essential  to  piety,  or  at  the  cheer- 
ful gayety  which  makes  their  Lord's  Day  a  day  of 
mental  as  well  as  of  bodily  rest  ?  Go  and  preach  to 
the  child,  that,  when  rejoicing  btfore  its  parent,  it 
must  look  sad  and  mournful;  and  when  yon  shall 
have  succeeded  in  plucking  from  its  young  heart,  in 


#-  •) 


^ 


m    <!■  I      ».* O  ■*!'<  <* 


.* 


to 


OUR  SAVIOUR  IN  THE  TEMPLE. 


strippiug  from  its  smiling  features,  the  quality  wbich 
makes  its  age  the  most  amiable,  then  may  you  try  to 
convince  the  natives  of  the  golden  south,  that  all  the 
natural  buoyancy  of  their  disposition  is  to  be  repressed, 
yea,  cut  out  and  seared  by  religion.  Take  the  child 
once  more  as  your  model,  and  putting  aside  all  inten* 
tioual  irreverence  and  neglect,  see  whose  practice  m 
other  respects  comes  nearest  to  its ;  and  that,  be  you 
assured,  cannot  be  unpleasing  to  God. 

Much  more  instruction  might  be  drawn  from  the 
consideration  of  this  attribute  of  docility,  which  has 
been  shown  to  be  a  characteristic  of  the  Christian's 
faith ;  but  I  must  hasten  to  a  few  brief  remarks  upon 
the  second  quality  of  our  model,  which  is  innocence. 
The  gieat  advantage  of  the  standard  proposed  by  the 
New  Law  over  that  of  the  Old  is,  that  we  have  all  of  us 
experience,  to  guide  us  to  its  attainment.  The  wisdom 
and  gravity  of  age,  which  in  the  elder  dispensation 
was  to  be  studied  and  copied  by  the  young,  these  had 
never  possessed;  nor  had  they,  consequently,  any 
guidance  of  internal  feeling  to  lead  thorn  to  its  acqui- 
sition. But  we  have  all  been  children ;  we  have  all 
passed  through  that  state  of  pure  innocence;  and  I 
will  venture  to  say,  that  no  one  looks  back  upon  that 
spiing  of  his  life  without  a  soft  regret,  that  he  should 
not  have  fixed  any  of  its  charming  traits  in  his  char- 
acter,  before  they  passed  away  for  ever.  You  must 
become  as  little  children  ii  you  wish  to  enter  the 
kingdom  of  Heaven;  that  is,  study  only  what  you 
yourselves  were,  and  strive  to  your  utmost  to  become 
so  once  more ;  and,  without  fail,  you  shall  be  saved. 

You  were  then  mild,  and  courteous  and  affable  to 


iiiir;«liiiiri.jy..J.,. .,  .'"" 


r 


rr-^ 


OUR  SAVIOUn  IN  THE  TEMPLE. 


11 


ality  wbich 
you  try  to 
that  all  the 
e  repreased, 
e  the  child 
Q  all  inteu- 
practice  lu 
lat,  be  you 

n  from  the 
,  which  has 

Ghriatian's 
marks  upon 
I  inaocence. 
3sed  by  the 
»ve  all  of  us 
rhe  wisdom 
iispensation 
r,  these  had 
uently,  any 
o  its  acqui' 
ve  have  all 
;nce;  and  I 
k  upon  that 
t  he  should 
in  his  char* 

You  must 

0  enter  the 
what  you 

i  to  become 
be  saved. 

1  affable  to 


all.  You  asked  not  after  men's  opinions,  or  party,  or 
rank ;  but  Nature  guided  you,  by  her  own  instincts,  to 
judge  of  what  was  amiable  and  virtuous,  and  taught 
you  to  love  and  esteem  it  wherever  found ;  and,  at  the 
same  time,  to  despise  no  one,  to  hate  no  one,  to  treat 
no  one  ill. 

You  were  then  obedient  to  all  whom  God  had 
placed  over  yon,  you  felt  towards  them  respect  and 
affection ;  you  dreamt  not  of  schemes  to  overthrow  or 
diminish  their  authority ;  you  rectived  their  instruc- 
tions with  attention ;  you  submitted  to  their  correction 
without  resentment.  And  how  beseeming  the  charac- 
ter of  the  child  this  conduct  is  our  blessed  Saviour 
was  careful  to  show  us  in  this  day's  Gospel,  which 
♦concludes  by  telling  us  that  "He  went  to  Nazareth 
with  His  parents,  and  was  subject  to  them." 

You  were  then  unambitious,  content  with  the  lot 
which  Trovidence  had  given  you ;  for,  as  St.  Chrysos- 
tom  remarks,  if  you  should  present  before  a  child  on 
one  side  a  queen  clothed  in  embroidered  robes  and 
bearing  a  jewelled  crown,  and  on  the  other  its  mother 
clad  in  taHered  raiment,  it  would  remain  undazzled 
and  unseduced;  but,  following  the  voice  of  Nature, 
cast  its  arms  round  its  parent's  neck,  and  mock  at  the 
allurements  of  ambition. 

You  were  then,  too,  unsolicitous  about  the  future 
and  about  the  world,  enjoying  the  simple  innocent 
pleasures  which  the  present  afforded  you,  knowing 
that  there  was  a  parent  who  ever  thought  of  you,  and 
took  care  that  all  was  provided  for  you  at  ihe  proper 
season. 

You  were  sincere,  open  and   unsuspicious;    you 


3C 


L-.=3te- 


»    I     iSfc  ,-.'-.'.  ■   j.t,    .,^«.S.......-i^.j^J.^ 


T-r 


79 


OUB  8AV10UB   IN  TIIK  JTHMPLB. 


spoke  yonr  sentiments  with  artless  candor,  respect- 
ing not  the  person  of  man  ;  you  knew  not  that  the 
truth  was  to  be  studiously  concealed  or  disguised ; 
you  laid  open  your  wants  and  little  sufferings  when- 
ever you  thought  you  might  obtain  assistance ;  you 
laughed  and:  you  wept  us  Nature's  impulse  taught 

You  were  pure  and  undefiled  in  heart,  in  desire,  in 
affection,  and  in  thought;  you  had  not  even  heard  of 
that  monster-vice  which,  when  once  it  has  fastened  its 
fangs  in  its  victim,  and  cast  round  his  loins  its  fiery 
chain,  drags  him  unresisting,  through  storms  of  pas- 
sion, into  the  bottomless  abyss. 

Your  virtue  then,  as  your  bodily  health,  was  not 
the  result  of  unremitting  attention,  and  of  repeated 
recoveries,  but  consisted  in  the  unconsciousness  of 
disorder,  the  fearlessness  of  any  danger,  unattended 
by  any  effort  or  precaution.    Nature,,  restored  by 
grace  to  something  of  its  primeval  purity,  created 
round  you  a  paradise  for  its  preservation,  a  paradise 
of  delight,  and  cheerftilness,  and  joy,  where  every 
thought  was  as  a  new  flower  springing  fresh  into  instant 
bloom,  and  every  wish  was  a  tempting  fruit  which 
might  be  plucked  without  danger.    And  love  was 
the  fountain  in  its  centre  which  you  seemed  ever  to 
drink,— love  towards  all  who  associated  with  you,  to 
all  who  cai-essed  you,  to  all  who  served  you,  to  all 
who  looked  uport  you ;  and,  breaking  through  even 
these  bounds,  rU  waters  parted,  and  diffused  your 
kindliness  and  affectionateness  even  over  the  irrational 
and  inaniiJinie  objects  of  creation.    And  the  gold  and 
precious  stories  of  that  land  were  rich;  a  blessing 


wmmm 


-■»• 


-r-r- 


1 


OUB  BAVLQUK   IN   TH£  TE31PLE. 


YS 


r,  respect* 
b  that  the 
disguised ; 
iuga  when- 
ance ;  you 
Ise  taught 

1  desire,  in 
m  heard  of 
fastened  its 
ins  its  fiery 
ins  of  pa»- 

;h,  was  not 
)f  repeated 
iioQsness  of 
unattended 
estored  by 
ity,  created 
a  paradise 
here  every 
into  instant 
fruit  which 
d  love  was 
ned  ever  to 
irith  you,  to 


you, 


to  all 


irough  even 
ffused  your 
le  irrational 
he  gold  and 
;  a  blessing 


there  was  which  bound  your  head  as  with  a  diadem 
over  which  angels  watched  as  you  reposed ;  graces 
which  made  your  soul  more  bright  and  precious  be- 
fore God  than  the  golden  ark  in  His  tabernacle ;  a 
treasure  of  eternal  promises  sealed  up  with  His  own 
signet  in  your  bosom,  which  the  powere  of  evil  re- 
pined at  and  envied.  Such  were  you  once:  alas! 
what  are  you  now  ?  You  have  since  tasted  of  the 
tree  of  knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  and  its  fruit,  too, 
fell  from  your  hand  into  that  beautiful  fountain,  like 
the  bitter  star  which  St.  John  saw ;  and  it  is  well  if 
only  a  third  part  of  its  sweet  waters  have  been  turned 
into  wormwood.  (Apoc  viii.  11.)  How  has  the  un- 
ruffled peace  of  innocence  been  dashed  from  your  soul 
by  the  wild  broad  sweep  of  boisterous  passion  ?  How 
hath  "  your  silver  been  changed  into  dross,  and  your 
wine  been  mingled  with  water?"  (Is,  i.  22.)  I  will 
leave  to  each,  one's  conscience  to  draw  his  portrait, 
and  hang  it  by  the  one  I  have  faintly  sketched,  and 
then  say  if  in  the  two  he  recognizes  the  same 
original.  And  yet,  certain  as  is  the  infallible 
word  of  truth,  so  certain  it  is,  that  only  the  firat 
resembles  him  who  shall  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
Heaven. 

What  then  remains,  but  that  you  mould  yourself 
anew  upon  the  model  which  memory  holds  up  before 
you.  At  every  year  of  your  life  you  remove  a  step 
further  from  that  happy  age :  God  grant  that  you  de- 
part not  as  much  from  its  happy  disposition.  Why  is 
our  Saviour's  age  so  carefully  recorded  in  this  day's 
Gospel,  and  at  other  great  periods  of  His  life,  except 
to  teach  us  to  keep  count  of  our  years,  and  be  able  to 


..usil 


u 


OUR  8AVI0UII  IN  TllJfi  TKMPLl. 


i' 


remember  thera  by  some  conKolhig  record  of  sli^nftl 
virtue.  But,  alas  I  cau  wo  l  >  m  ?  Hlmll  wo,  for  in- 
stance, remember  the  yenr  which  has  just  ehipaod  by 
any  new  step  iu  virtue  and  grace,  which  may  refresh 
and  comfort  us  when  summoned  to  depart  ?  Look 
back  upon  it  and  see  before  it  is  too  late;  for  perhaps 
you  havo  already  begun  to  forget  it.  You  have  flung 
it  away  from  you,  like  the  stone  which  the  wayfarer 
used  to  throw  from  habit  upon  Absalom's  grave,  with- 
out pausing  to  reflect  on  the  odious  corruption  it  cov- 
ered deeper  from  his  sight.  It  passed  by  just  as  did 
its  fellows  before  it ;  its  garb  was  motley  as  the  fool's, 
chequered  alternately  with  good  and  evil,  though  I 
should  marvel  much  if  the  darker  hues  did  not  pre- 
vail. In  it  you  laughed,  and  you  pighed  ;  you  feasted 
for  those  who  came  into  the  world,  and  you  put  on 
mourning-weeds  for  those  who  left  it;  you  trans- 
gressed and  you  repented ;  you  made  resolutions  and 
you  broke  t^em  ;  ycj  had  quarrels  and  reconciliations, 
illnesses  and  recoveries ;  you  did,  I  trust,  much  that 
was  virtuous  and  good  ;  and  very  much  we  all  did 
that  was  evil  and  sinful  before  Ood.  But  as  the  ser- 
;'ent  at  its  annual  term  glides  out  of  its  speckled 
coil,  or  as  the  bird,  when  its  yearly  period  comes, 
shakes  off  its  variegated  plumage,  and  scatters  it  to 
the  winds  of  heaven,  so  have  we  cast  off  and  left 
behind  us,  as  far  as  we  could,  the  state  and  habit  of 
the  past  year,  retaining  no  more  accurate  recollec- 
tion thereof,  than  we  do  of  the  lights  and  shadows 
which  played  on  yesterday's  landscape.  But  yet 
every  fragment  of  your  past  condition  has  been  care- 
fully picked   up  as  it  dropped  curelessly  from  you, 


..4MUM 


iiHiiiliinlii  farm 


■Pil" 


I'd  of  filj'nnl 
II  w<«,  for  in* 
t  t'lftpaod  hy 

may  refresh 
part  ?  Look 
;  forperhapa 
u  have  flung 
;he  wayfarer 

grave,  with- 
ption  it  cov- 
r just  as  did 
as  the  fool's, 
iril,  though  I 
did  not  pre- 

you  feasted 

you  put  on 
;  you  trans- 
olutions  and 
conciliations, 
t,  much  that 

we  all  did 
tt  as  the  ser- 
its  speckled 
)eriod  conies, 
scatters  it  to 

off  and  left 
and  habit  of 
rate  recolleo- 
ind  shadows 
But  yet 
as  been  care- 
iy  from  you, 


OUB  HAVIOUK   IN  TIIK  TEMl'LK. 


n 


And  nicely  joined  together  and  treasured  up,  m  a 
record  of  what  you  have  been  and  what  you  have 
done. 

How  will  you  be  dismayed,  when  one  day  this  shall 
be  produced  and  unrolled  as  a  huge  sheet  before  you, 
•where  you  shall  see  registered  how  every  month, 
eveiy  day,  every  hour,  yea,  every  minute,  hath  been 
passed ;  how  many  have  been  given  to  indolence,  how 
many  to  dissipation,  how  many  to  transgression,  how 
many  to  vice,  and  how  few  to  God.  And  then,  too, 
yon  shall  see  all  those  with  whom  you  have  associated 
during  this  term,  all  who  have  shared  iu  your  varied 
fortune, — the  many  who  laughed  and  the  few  who 
wept  with  you,  yea,  and  they,  too,  who  have  preached 
to  you,  arrayed  and  sworn  m  witnesses  against  you. 
Their  coui'se  has  resembled  the  frantic  dance  of  those 
Grecian  matrons  who,  joined  band  in  hand,  whirled 
round,  as  they  moaned  the  death-song  on  the  moun< 
tain's  brow,  so  that  whoever  at  each  revolution  came 
to  the  edge,  loosened  her  grasp  aud  fell  into  the 
abyss  below.  But  the  circle  reclosed  aud  the  dance 
continued. 

Alas  1  who  fell  from  our  circle  in  this  its  last  revo- 
lution? We  have  forgotten  him,  perhaps:  be  it  so; 
but  there  is  to  b^  some  victim  in  each  round ;  some 
one's  turn  is  approaching,  some  one  is  bounding  to- 
wards the  precipice,  perhaps  you,  perhaps  I, — it  may 
be  only  one,  but  oh  1  let  us  all  be  forewarned  and  pre- 
pared. And  how  ?  Become  as  little  children,  and 
return  to  that  innocence  which  you  have  lost;  for,  to 
sum  up  in  the  appropriate  words  of  St.  Peter :  "  This 
is  the  word  which  hath  been  preached  unto  you. 


r 


T 


76 


OUR  iAviouB  vx  rm  TEMPIX 


Wher.^fore,  laving  wide  all  malice,  all  guile,  and  di». 
«iikulj*uoi..,  wid  envie«,  and  all  detractions,  »«  new- 
born babe^  desir^^  the  rational  m.lk  witboat  guile ; 
that  thereby  ye  may  grow  unto  solvation."  (I  let.  I. 
26;u.  1,  2.) 


T 


>,  and  dit* 

H,  as  new* 
loat  guile; 
•  (I  Pet.!. 


SERMON   IV. 
HH  9oty  ^mt  of  9fr$ttl. 

Lcue,  U.  II. 

••  ma  name  wm  oJW  Jettw,  wWch  wm  c«II«d  by  ihe  Angel  before  He  wm 
euBcelved  kn  the  wv.ijib." 

It  is  not  uncommon,  nor  T  thiulr  unwise,  my  bref  b- 
ren,  for  those  who  undertake  what  seems  beyond  their 
strength,  to  shelter  them^^elves  under  the  protection  of 
some  great  name,  by  the  authority  of  which  they  may 
insure  success.     It  was  thus  that,  a  few  centuries  ago, 
in  times  of  turbulence  and  oppression,  the  feeble 
would  put  on  the  cognizance  of  somo   -owerful  lord, 
as  whose  vassa'  they  would  not  fear  U>    epel  the  at- 
tempts  of  an  u    na.  and  stronger  aggreavir.  It  ,  thus 
that,  even  at   .ue  ^  >esent  day,  the  obscure  scholar 
hopes  to  win  some  more  partial  favor,  if  he  can  pr«>flx 
to  hia  labore  the  namw  of  any  one,  whose  reputation 
and  acknowledged  merit  may  giv«-  consideration  to  his 
humble  eflforts.     Now,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  as  I 
think,  it  hm  thm  day  befallen  m<  to  op«^n  our  aunnaL 
course  of  instr  ictions,  in  the  full  t   usciousnean  of  ina- 
bility and  unworthiness,  but  under  the  sanction  of  that 
Name,   bes'des  which  there  is  none  other  on  earth 
given  to  men  whereby  they  may  be  saved.     For  you 
«i-e  nut  ignorant,  brethren,  that  on  this  day  the  Holy 


r 


78 


THK  nOLT  NAMV  Of  imjU. 


Cutbolic  Church  commumoratfts  the  blcmed  ahI  mlof* 
iible  Name  of  JeRus.  Amidst  th«  joyful  fentivaU  of 
our  IjonVa  Nativity^  the  niyst**rio«  of  this  holy  Name 
could  not  be  forgott«u.  Hut  no  many  and  so  varioun 
have  been  our  motiven  for  joy,  that  wo  scaroely  have 
had  time,  during  their  celebration,  to  puuso  upon  thi«. 
Even  on  the  first  day  of  the  year,  on  occawon  of  our 
LordV  Circumcision,  there  were  too  many  other  my»» 
teriea  of  faith  and  love,  to  allow  the  mind's  dwelling 
OA  it  should  upon  the  tender  glories  of  the  Name  then 
given.  Worthily,  then,  has  there  been  allotted  to  it 
its  own  proper  festival;  for  it  is  a  Name  to  us  full 
of  delightful  suggestions,— one  that  will  amply  repay 
the  devout  meditations  of  our  hearts. 

But  ou  this  occasion  it  presents  itself  in  connection 
with  the  circumstances  under  which  you  are  ad- 
dressed. It  is  impossible  to  overlook  the  considera- 
tion that  wo  are  here  assembled  in  the  Nam^j  of  this 
our  Lord  :  and  that  for  a  purpose  which  can  have  no 
virtue  if  performed  not  in  His  Name.  In  this  Name  I 
■umraon  you  to  hear  the  word  of  God ;  under  this  I 
mean  to  seek  protection  and  virtue  for  my  feeble  ef- 
forts. Of  old,  when  this  city  (Rome)  was  the  abode 
of  every  evil  passion,  they  who  called  themselves 
clients  of  patrons,  wicked  as  themselves,  would,  under 
the  sanction  of  their  name,  run  into  every  excem  of 
violence  and  injustice,  and  foul  the  name,  which  they 
affected  to  honor,  with  reproach  and  public  infamy. 
But  we,  blessed  be  God,  have  chosen  for  the  name  to 
be  invoked  upon  us,  one  which  can  only  be  the  sym- 
bol  of  peace,  and  charity,  and  joy.  They  who  rever- 
ence that  Name  must  reverence  His  l&ws.  who  boie  it ; 


TUK  HULY    NAMK  or  JKHUfl 


70 


Mil  »l<loP« 

feMtivnU  of 
Ijoly  Name 

HO  vnriou« 
rcely  Imve 

iiputi  tbifl. 
lioa  of  our 
other  inyii> 
fl  dwelling 
Name  thea 
lotted  to  it 

to  118  full 

aply  repay 

coonectioa 
)U  are  nd- 

considerar 
me  of  this 
m  have  no 
bis  Name  I 
nder  this  I 
y  feeble  ef- 

the  abode 
themselves 
}uld,  under 
f  Gxcem  of 
which  they 
lie  infamy. 
be  name  to 
e  the  sym- 
who  rever- 
'ho  boie  it ; 


Ihey  who  love  it,  niuit  love  the  boundlew  troannreii  of 
benevoletice,  mercy,  oiul  charity,  which  it  rm.Tdrt. 

Let  us,  then,  prepare  our  hearts  this  ilay  for  the  re- 
ceivini?  of  His  luw  wh«'n  »lccUred  to  us,  and  fur  the 
practice  of  His  commandments ;  by  considering  the 
force  they  must  derive  from  the  holy  Name  that  sano- 
tioni  thvrto,— a  name  of  mighty  power  with  Hiui  who 
proclaims  it,  a  name  of  boundless  sweetness  to  those 

that  learn  it. 

When  God  had  decreed  to  achieve  the  wondertul 
deliverance  of  His  people  from  the  l<:gyptian  yoke,  the 
f  rst  step  which  He  chose  towards  its  accomplishment, 
was  revealing  to  them  a  name,  whereby  they  should 
kaow  Him,  and  worehip  Him  as  their  deliverer. 
Moses,  in  fact,  asked  Him  by  what  name  he  should 
declare  Him  to  the  people  of  Israel,  when  he  coinmu- 
uicated  to  them  his  commission.  Then,  "  God  said  to 
Moses,  I  AM  WHO  AM.  .  .  .  This  is  my  name  for  ever, 
and  this  is  my  memorial  unto  all  generations." 
(Exod.  iii.  U.)  And  afterwards  He  reappeared  to 
the  holy  law-giver,  and  said  to  him,  "  I  am  the  Lord, 
that  appeared  to  Abraham,  to  Isaac,  and  to  Jacob,  by 
the  name  of  God  Almighty;  and  my  name  Adonai" 
(or  Jehovah)  "  I  did  not  show  them."     (vi.  3.) 

God  then  began  His  first  work  of  d^iliverance  by 
the  assumption  of  a  new  name,  unknown  to  those  who 
had  not  witnessed  His  salvation.  And  that  Name 
was  a  name  of  power.  Yes,  a  name  of  terrible  power. 
Not  by  it  were  the  blind  made  to  see,  but  darkness 
such  as  might  be  felt  with  the  hand,  was  brought  over 
the  entire  land  of  Egypt.  Not  by  it  were  the  lepers 
cleansed,  but  foul  ulcei-a  and  sores  were  brought  to 


r 


T 


80 


THE   HOLY   NAME  OF  JESUS. 


defile  and  disfigure  the  bodies  of  its  inhabitants.  Not 
by  it  were  the  sons  of  widows  and  the  friends  of  the 
poor  restored  to  life,  but  all  the  fiist-born  of  Egypt, 
from  the  heir  of  Pharaoh  who  sat  with  his  father  on 
his  throne,  to  the  eldest  son  of  his  meanest  subject, 
were  struck  in  one  night  with  death.  Such  was  the 
power  of  this  delivering  Name,— a  power  to  make  the 
proud  and  obstinate  quail,  to  scourge  kingdoms,  and 
to  destroy  their  princes,— a  power  of  angry  might  and 

avenging  sway. 

And  such  it  ever  ccntinued,  even  to  those  m  whose 
favor  its  power  was  exerted.    It  resembled,  in  fact,  the 
protection  of  the  cloud  that  guided  them  through  the 
desert,  which,  whether  by  day  with  its  overhanging 
shadow,  or  by  night  with  the  red  glare  of  its  fiery 
pillar,  must  have  excited  feelings  of  awe  and  terror, 
rather  than  of  love.    So  great,  in  fact,  was  the  fearful 
reverence  paid  this  dread  Name  of  God,  that  it  ceased 
to  be  ever  uttered  until  its  true  pronunciation  was  com- 
pletely lost.     And,  moreover,  such  is  the  measure  of 
power  attributed  by  the  Jewish  teachers  to  this  now 
ineffable  Name  of  God,  that  they  scruple  not  to  assert, 
that  whosoever  should  discover  its  true  sound,  and 
according  to  this  utter  it,  would  there'oy  perform  any 
work  however  wonderful,  and  find  no  miracle  too 

great. 

But  leaving  aside  these  opinions,  which,  as  of  later 
growth,  deserve  not  as  much  notice,  it  is  sufficiently 
obvious  how  through  the  sacred  Scriptures  the  Name 
of  God  becomes  the  symbol  of  HimaeJf,  so  that  to  it 
all  power  is  attributed  which  to  Him  belongs.  It  is 
tbe  Name  of  the  Lord  which  men  are  invited  to  bless ; 


».wiiWM  m^%**mii^llm  wrMMMwi  i*«* 


T 


TUB  HOLY   NiUIE  OP  JESUS. 


81 


its.  Not 
is  of  the 
)f  Egypt, 
fathfci*  on 
t  subject, 
I  was  the 
make  the 
loms,  and 
night  and 

5  in  whose 
in  fact,  the 
irough  the 
erhanging 
)f  its  fiery 
md  terror, 
the  fearful 
,t  it  ceased 
a  was  com- 
Qieasure  of 

0  this  now 
t  to  assert, 
)ound,  and 
erform  any 
uiracle  too 

as  of  later 
sufficiently 
i  the  Name 

1  that  to  it 
mgs.  It  is 
3d  to  bless; 


it  is  by  calling  on  His  Name  that  we  shall  be  saved 
from  our  enemies ;  it  is  iu  his  Name  that  we  put  our 
trust,  when  others  confide  in  chariots  and  in  hoi-ses; 
His  Name  is  holy  and  terrible,  or  glorious  and  pleas- 
ant.    In  the  Name  of  God  victories  are  gained  and 
prophecies  spoken,  and  the  evil  threatened,  and  the 
perveree  punished,  and  the  good  encouraged,  and  the 
perfect  rewarded.    It  receives  the  homage  due  to  God, 
for  it  is  the  representative  of  God :  it  is  as  God  Him- 
self; spoken  by  the  lips,  it  is  to  our  hearing  what  were 
to  the  eye  the  angels  that  appeared  to  Lot  or  Abra- 
ham, or  the  burning  bush  of  Horeb  to  Moses,  or  the 
dove  to  John,— a  sensible  image  of  Hun,  whose  invisi- 
ble  nature  can  only  be  manifested  through  such  imper- 
fect symbols. 

When  the  covenant  of  new  and  perfect  redemption 
was  made,  a  new  na  ne  w  as  requisite  to  inaugurate  it ; 
and  it  needed  to  be,  even  more  than  the  f.  xmer,  a 
name  of  power.    For  it  was  not  any  longer  a  bondage 
under  man  that  was  to  be  destroyed,  but  slavery  to 
the  powers  of  darkness  and  of  wicked  night.    They 
were  not  chains  of  iron  or  bolts  of  brass  which  were 
to  be  broken  in  sunder,  but  the  snare  of  death  and  the 
bonds  of  hell,  which  had  encompassed  and  straitened 
us  on  every  side.    We  were  not  merely  condemned 
by  an  earthly  tyrant,  to  make  bricks  without  straw, 
but  we  were  deeply  fixed  in  "the  mire  of  dregs,"  as 
the  Psalmist  expresses  it  (xxxix.  3,  and  Ixviii.  15) ; 
that  is,  in  the  filthy  corruption  of  vicious  desires,  or,  as 
Ezekiel  describes  the  foolish  devices  of  the  wicked,  we 
were  as  "a  people  that  buildeth  up  a  wall,  and  daubs 
it  with  clay  in  which  there  is  no  straw.'     (xiii.  10.) 
« 


r 


IHi 


82 


THE  UGLY  NA2tI£  OF  JKSUH. 


So  much  as  spintaal  wretchedness  is  deep  beyond  the 
bodily,  80  much  stronger  was  the  power  required  to 
drag  us  from  the  abyss. 

Now  to  do  this  was  the  great  work  of  our  salvation, 
and  He  who  came  to  accomplish  it  was  to  bear,  as  in 
the  former  deliverance,  a  name  of  power.  And  that 
name,  m  brwight  down  from  Heaven  by  an  archangel 
to  Mary,  as  communicated  by  an  angel  to  Joseph,  and 
as  solemnly  given  eight  days  after  Hia  birth,  by  a 
priest,  was  tke  N'\me  of  Jksus. 

If,  during  His  life.  He  concealed  the  glorious  might 
of  His  Name ;  if  He  bore  it  meekly  as  another  might 
have  done,  and  as  though  it  but  formed  a  name  to 
distinguish  Him  among  the  children  of  His  people, 
who  shall  thereat  wonder,  seeing  how  He  shrouded 
from  the  eyes  of  men  the  fulntiss  of  the  Godhead  that 
resided  in  Him,  and  reserved,  for  a  later  period,  the 
completer  manifestation  of  His  true  character  ?  For 
no  sooner  had  Ht»  prerogntives  as  the  Saviour  of  maa 
been  finally  asserted,  by  His  triumph  over  death, 
and  His  return  to  the  right  hand  of  His  Father,  than 
the  "  Name  which  is  above  all  names"  became,  in  the 
hands  of  His  apostles,  the  great  instrument  of  all  their 
power. 

There  are  few  incidents  in  the  apostolic  annals 
more  beautiful  and  interesting  to  a  loving  Christian, 
than  the  first  public  miracle  after  the  Paraclete's  de- 
scent. It  was  wrought,  as  you  well  know,  upon  the 
lame  man  at  the  Beautiful  gate  of  the  Temple,  by 
Peter  and  John,  whan  they  entered  it  to  pray.  I 
know  not  whether,  humanly  speaking,  we  can  fully 
realise  their  feelings,  I  mean  apart  from  the  conscious- 


l"iJll!WW!lllW!l%Wff'   I 


THE   HOLY   NAME  OF  JESU3. 


88 


lyond  the 
quired  to 

salvation, 
ear,  as  in 
A.nd  that 
archangel 
aeph,  and 
rth,  by  a 

)us  might 
bar  might 
name  to 
is  people, 
shrouded 
head  that 
eriod,  the 
;er  ?  For 
iir  of  man 
er  death, 
ther,  than 
me,  in  the 
f  all  their 

lie  annuls 
Christian, 
iclete's  de- 
upon  the 
emple,  by 
pray.  I 
can  fully 
conscious- 


ness  of  power  which  they  had  just  received.     During 
their  divine  Master's  life,  they  had  occasionally  failed 
in  their  attempts  to  work  miracles.    Now  they  are 
alone,  the  entire  cause  is  in  their  hands ;  any  ill  suc- 
cess on  their  parts  will  be  ruinous  to  it,  for  they  can- 
not now  fall  back  upon  the  certain  might  of  Him  who 
sent  them.    We  might  have  supposed  some  slight 
fluttering  of  the  heart,  some  creeping  anxiety  coming 
over  the  mind,  as  they  decided  upon  putting  the 
power  of  their  Saviour's  Name  to  &  great  public  test. 
But  no ;  mark  the  calm  decision,  the  unwavering  con- 
fldecce  with  which  they  proceed.    The  cripple  a&\ed 
them,  aa  he  did  every  passer-by,  for  an  alms.    "  But 
Peter,  with  John,  fastening  his  eyes  upon  him,  said : 
Look  upon  us.    But  he  looked  earnestly  upon  them, 
hoping  that  he  should  receive  something  of  them. 
But  Peter  said :  Silver  and  gold  I  have  not,  but  what 
I  have  I  give  thee.     In  the  Name  of  Jesus  Christ  of 
Nazareth,  arise  and  walk.    And  taking  him  by  the 
right  hand,  he  lifted  him  up,  and  forthwith  his  feet 
and  soles  received  strength.   And  he  leaping  up,  stood 
and  walked."    (Acts,  iii.  4-8.)    It  was  in  virtue  of 
no  peraonal  power,  that  the  holy  apostles  expected  or 
claimed  this  dominion  over  Nature,  as  spoilt  by  the 
fall  of  man ;  it  was  the  virtue  of  His  Name  who  had 
conquered  sin,  and  plucked  out  the  sting  of  death, 
that  wrought  through  their  hands. 

So  necessary  did  some  such  sanctionr  appear  to  the 
very  piiests,  that  when  they  had  apprehended  the 
two  apostles  and  placed  them  in  the  uddst  of  them, 
they  asked  them  "by  what  power,  or  by  what  name, 
have  you  done  this?"    Peter,  filled  with  the  Holy 


■■  MWI 


limiAM 


84 


THK  HOLT    NAME  OF  JTSSVB. 


Ghost,  replies,  that  "by  the  IQame  of  Jesus  Chnst  of 
Nazareth,"  whom  they  had  crucified,  even    by  Him 
that  man  stood  there  before  them  whole.    Then  they 
"charged  them  not  to  speak  at  all,  nor  to  teach  m 
the  Name  of  Jesus.      But  when  they  had  been  let  go, 
and  returned  to  the  assembly  of  the  faithful,  they 
lifted  up  their  voices  in  one  unanimous  magmficent 
prayer,  concluding  with  these  words— "  And  iw, 
Lord,  behold  their  threatenings,  and  grant  unto  Thy 
servants  that,  with  all  confidence,  they  may  speak 
Thy  word,  by  stretching  forth  Thy  hand  to  cures, 
and  signs,  and  won^lsrs,  to  be  done  by  the  Name  of 
Thy  holy  Son  Jesus."    (Acts,  i v.) 

And  what  was  this  first  public  triumph  of  that  glo- 
rious  Name,  but  only  the  first  of  a  long  series  of  vie- 
tories  over  earth  and  hell  ?    Yv.t,  terrible  as  ^t  was  to 
those  leagued  powers  of  evi!,  it  was  ever  Mnelded  for 
the  benefit  of  men.     It  was  as  a  healing  balm  for  the 
sick  and  the  halt ;  they  were  anointed  m  this  Name 
and  were  raised  up  from  their  infirmity.    "The  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  healeth  thee,"  said  Peter  to  Eneas;  "and 
immediately  he  arose "  from  his  eight  years  illness. 
( \cts,  ix.  34).    It  was  a  savor  of  life  to  the  dead  m 
Chiist,  whom  it  raised,  whun  expedient  for  them,  from 
the  grave.     It  was,  moreover,  a  bright  and  burning 
light  to  them  that  sat  in  darkness.    It  overthrew  the 
dominion  of  Satan;   it  destroyed  the  empire  of  sin; 
it  brought  forth  fruits  of  holiness,  and  diffused  over 
earth  the  blessings  of  Heaveu.     Soon  did  it  become 
«  great  among  the  GentUes,  from  the  rising  of  the  sua 
tr  *he  going  down  of  the  same."  (Mai.  i.  11.)    A^  the 
first  discoverers  of  unknown  lands,  as  the  conqueroi-a 


MtmuMim  'Kmitm 


'%«fiij|NAttMl 


,,tmm 


Christ  of 

by  Him 

'hen  they 

teach  in 

en  let  go, 

iful,  they 

agnificent 

Lnd   now, 

unto  Thy 

lay  speak 

to  cures, 

Name  of 

f  that  glo- 
■ies  of  vic- 
s  it  was  to 
rielded  for 
ilm  for  the 
this  Name, 
'  The  Lord 
leas ;  "  and 
irs'  illness, 
le  dead  in 
them,  from 
id  burning 
.threw  the 
»ire  of  sin; 
ijSfased  over 
1  it  become 
;  of  the  sua 
.)    A^the 
conqueroi-s 


■-v.ji,imi .  iffiiifgwrti 


THE  HOLT   NAME  OF  JESTTS. 


85 


of  hostile  countries  solemnly  pronounce  that  they 
take  possession  thereof  in  the  name  of  the  sovereign 
who  f.ummisj  ioned  them  ;  so  did  the  Twelve,  whether 
explorers  of  the  distant  seats  of  barbarism,  beyond 
the  flight  of  the  Roman  eogles,  or  as  valiant  warriors 
against  the  active  resistance  of  worldly  principalities, 
register  their  discoveries  and  settle  their  conquests  in 
no  other  name  than  that  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  Often 
was  the  world  distracted  by  the  rival  claims  of  pre- 
t«ndei-8  to  the  empire ;  often  was  province  in  arms 
against  province,  through  the  wide  extent  of  Roman 
domination ;  often  was  the  empire  itself  engaged  in 
cruel  war  with  the  nations  without  its  pale :  still 
there  was  one  empire,  vaat,  intemunable,  and  indivis- 
ible, ruled  ii;  peace  over  all  the  world,  Greek  and  bar- 
barian. The  dominion  of  Jesus  was  undisturbed  by 
rivalry,  and  undistracted  by  conflict.  It  could  allow 
no  competition,  it  could  fear  no  jealousy  among  its  sub- 
jects. One  Name  was  called  upon  by  th<  m  all ;  and 
it  was  ft  Name  that  drew  from  them  all  an  undivided 
homage. 

So  secure  were  the  early  Christians  of  its  power, 
that  they  hesitated  not  to  attribute  to  it  an  efficacy,  so 
to  speak,  sacramental — that  is,  a  virtue  independent  of 
all  peculiar  privilege  in  the  individual  who  employed 
it.  They  were  not  afraid  of  incurring  the  guilt  of  su- 
pei-stition,  by  believing  its  very  sound  to  possess  a  re- 
sistless influence  over  the  powers  of  darkness.  Saint 
Justin,  in  his  Apology,  only  fifty  years  after  the  death 
of  Christ,  appeals  for  a  testimony  of  the  truth  of  Hia 
religion  to  the  acknowledged  fact,  that  any  Christiaa, 
by  pronouncing  tb    Name  of  Jesus,  could  expel  the 


■■H 


mm 


80 


THE   HOLY    NAME   OF  JE8TT8. 


evil  spirit  from  any  one  possessed  by  bim.    And  Ter- 
tulliau  goes  even  as  far  as  to  challenge  the  heathens  to 
the  experiment,  with  the  condition  that  if  any  Chris- 
tian failed  in  it,  they  might  instantly  put  him  to  death. 
But  now,  alas !    my  brethren,  the  first  fervor  of 
faith  has  long  waxed  cold,  and  with  it  have  been  with- 
drawn the  wonderful  prerogatives  it  had  obtained  and 
secured.     We,  the  servants  of  Christ,  may  apeak  His 
word  with  all  confidence  in  His  Name,  but  the  cures, 
and  signs,  and  wonders,  which  n\ay   ensue  by  the 
stretching  forth  of  His  hand,  will  be  in  the  inward 
soul,  not-  upon  the  outward  flesh.    And  in  whose  name 
else  can  I,  or  any  other  that  shall  fill  this  place,  ad- 
dress you?    In  what  other  name  were  we  admitted 
into  His  ministry,  in  what  other  name  have  we  received 
commission  to  the  flock  of  Christ,  if  not  in  His,  the 
shepherd's  ?    In  His  Name  alone  are  the  sacraments  ot 
life  administered  to  you ;   in  His  Name  alone  is  the 
adorable  Sacrifice  of  His  Body  and  Blood  offered  by 
us;  in  His  Name  alone  we  can  admonish  you  and 
threaten  you,  upbraid  and  encourage  you,  forgive  you 
or  retain  you  in  your  bonds.    When  the  prophets 
spoke  of  old,  they  contented  themselves  with  the  sim- 
ple preface,  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts."    Seldom 
was  it  a  prologue  to  words  of  peace  or  comfort,  but 
rather  to  menaces  and  warnings,  and  woes.    And  yet 
they  that  heard  them  looked  not  on  the  meanness  of 
the  speakers,  but  considei-ed  the  majesty  of  the  God 
who  sent  them,  and  they  rent  their  garments  before 
them,  and  humbled  their  souls  with  fasting,  and  cov- 
ered  their  bodies  with  sackcloth  and  ashes,  and  did 
penance. 


,^..ju.^  <^iwiiim  .-.lMlW!W>*»i**J«'<'ii 


THE   HOLY  NAMK  OF  Jf>iU8. 


87 


And  Ter- 
eathena  to 
my  Chris- 
i  to  death. 

fervor  of 
been  with- 
tained  and 
speak  Hia 
I  the  cures, 
le  by  the 
he  inward 
hose  name 

place,  ad- 
e  admitted 
ve  received 
in  His,  the 
craraents  ot 
ilone  is  the 

offered  by 
ti  you  and 
forgive  you 
e  prophets 
ith  the  sim- 
."  Seldom 
omfort,  but 
.  And  yet 
neanness  of 
of  the  God 
ents  before 
ig,  and  cov- 
es, and  did 


#*M|>B»HtHiflfl^ 


And  when  the  minister  of  the  New  Law  stands  be- 
fore you  saying,  "Thus  saith  the  Lord  Jesus,"  shall 
theie  be  less  heed  taken  of  his  words,  because  he 
speaketh  in  the  name  of  One  who  is  gracious  and  iVil 
of  mercy,  and  comes  to  communicate  "thoughts  of 
peace  and  not  of  affliction  ?"  No.  Did  we  come  be- 
fore you  in  our  own  names,  and  speak  to  you  "of  jus- 
tice and  chastity,  and  of  the  judgment  to  come,"  you 
might,  like  Felix,  send  us  back  and  say,  "For  this 
time  go  thy  way."  (Acts,  xxiv.  24.)  Did  we,  as  of 
ourselves,  preach  to  you  the  resurrection  of  the  dead, 
ye  might,  as  they  of  Athens,  mock  us  to  scorn, 
(xvii.  32.)  If,  in  fine,  we  presumed  to  command  you 
to  be  continent  and  chaste,  meek  and  forgiving,  peni- 
tent and  humble,  to  distribute  your  goods  to  the  poor, 
or  to  afflict  your  bodies  by  fasting,  you  might,  per- 
haps, resent  our  interference  with  the  concerns  of  your 
lives,  and  chide  us,  not  unreasonably,  for  exacting  du- 
ties hard  and  disagreeable.  But  when  we  speak  unto 
you  th«Jt  things  by  the  power  and  in  the  Name  of 
Him  witv  U  King  of  your  souls  and  Master  of  your 
being, — when  we  claim  from  you  docility  and  obe- 
dience for  Him  whose  livery  we  bear  and  whose  heralds 
we  are,  refuse  ye  at  your  peril  to  receive  our  words, 
and  honor  our  commission. 

But,  good  God,  what  do  I  say  ?  Shall  I  misdoubt 
me  of  the  power  and  virtue  of  the  Name  of  Thy  be- 
loved Son, — of  that  Name,  at  the  sound  whereof 
"  every  knee  shall  bow,  of  things  in  heaven,  of  things 
on  earth,  aud  of  things  nnder  the  earth  ?"  Shall  I 
fear  that  the  neck  of  man  redeemed,  will  be  more  in- 
flexible than  the  knees  of  Thy  vanquished  enemies, 


I 


MbJMi 


88 


Till  HOLT  KAMK  OF  JK«»U«. 


and  -efusc  to  tnke  up  Thy  gentle  yoket  Shall  I  ap- 
prehend that  the  «oul  of  the  captive,  who  hath  be«a 
ransomed  by  the  power  of  this  Name,  will  adore  and 
love  It  h^  than  the  angels,  to  whom  it  brought  no 

tidincM  of  salvation  ?  ,  -      i   ** 

No,  my  brethren,  from  you  we  hope  for  better 
thinirs.    For  know  you  not  that  we  are  engaged  to- 
gether in  a  holy  ./arfare,  for  which  we  have  no  other 
ftrength  than  that  of  this  holy  Name  ?    In  -  a  wrest, 
ling,  not  against  flesh  and  blood,  but  agamst  princi- 
palities  and  powe..,  against  the  rulers  of  the  world  of 
ihis  darkness,  against  the  spirits  of  wickedness  in  h.gh 
places  r  (Eilhes.  vi.  12.)     And  if  you  fight  not  under 
Jhe  Nam*  ef  the  God  of  Jacob,  how  nhall  you  prevail  ? 
Anciently  when  armies  i-ushed  to  battle,  a  name  was 
put  into  the  mouth  of  each,  as  a  watchword  and  cheer- 
in«  symbol  of  the  cause  in  which   they  struggled 
Glad  was  tl  e  heart  of  the  commander,  and  flushed 
with  confidence  of  victory,  when  one  unanimous  shout 
of  the  name  of  their  king  or  their  patron  rung  clear 
Bod  joyous  from  his  men,  as  they  rushed  to  the  on- 
Blsught,  and  drowned  the  feeble  response  of  the  nyal 
ho8t     And  so,  in  the  Name  of  Jesus,  wdl  we  strike 
boldly  at  our  spiritual  foes ;  and  bravely  will  we 
sound  it  forth  together,  to  the  terror  and  discomfiture 
of  hell,  and  the  overthrow  of  its  might 

It  is  the  Name  of  ten  thousand  battles,  and  ot 
countless  victories.  It  echoed  of  o^d  through  the 
vaulted  prisons  of  this  city,  and  filled  the  heart  of  the 
confessor  with  courageous  joy.  It  broke  from  the 
martyr's  lips,  when  Nature  could  no  longer  brook  si- 
lence, and  was  as  "oil  poured  out"  upon  his  wounds. 


MtnMMMIil 


umimt 


^hall  I  Rp- 

Imth  been 

adore  and 

>rooght  uo 

for  better 
n  gaged  to- 
e  uo  other 
11  "a  wrest- 
linst  princi- 
he  world  of 
less  in  high 
t  not  under 
on  prevail  ? 
I  name  was 
I  and  cheer- 
f  struggled, 
and  flushed 
limous  shout 
1  rung  clear 
I  to  the  on- 
of  the  rival 
ill  we  strike 
ely  will  we 
discomfiture 

itles,  and  of 
through  the 

heart  of  the 
ke  from  the 
jer  brook  si- 

his  wounds. 


TlIE  HOLY   NAllK  OF  JESUS. 


89 


It  was  the  music  of  the  anchorite,  when  in  the  depthf 
of  the  desert  the  powers  of  darkness  broke  loose  upon 
him:  and  it  dissipated  his  temptation.  And  ho  it 
shall  bo  the  signal  of  our  combat,  the  watchword  of 
our  ranks.  See,  it  is  written  in  broad  lettera  upon  the 
itandard  we  have  followed,  "  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  King 
of  the  Jews."  Shame  and  confusion  to  the  dastard 
who  deserts  his  banner,  ur  refuses  to  follow  where 
that  Name  leads  I  Victory  and  glory  to  the  chosen 
ones,  who  shall  confide  in  its  power,  and  Combat  in  its 
cause  I 

"Out  of  the  strong,"  said  Samson,  in  proposing  his 
riddle  to  the  Philistines,  "out  of  the  strong  came 
forth  sweetness."  "What,"  they  replied,  in  solving 
it,  "is  stronger  than  the  lion,  and  what  is  sweetei 
than  honey  ?"  (Jud.  xiv.  14,  18.)  Surely,  we  may 
reply,  "  His  Name,  who,  as  the  lion  of  the  tribe  ot 
Juda,  hath  prevailed  over  death  and  hell,  and  hath 
been  found  worthy  to  open  the  book  and  loosen  its 
seals:  and  who  yet  in  proposing  to  us  its  precepts, 
makes  them  to  us  sweeter  than  honey  and  the  honey- 
comb." 

It  would  seem  to  have  been  a  special  privilege  of 
patriarchal  foresight,  to  understand  when  ?.  child  was 
born  what  character  it  should  bear  througii  life,  and 
to  name  it  accordingly.  Thus  was  Noah  so  named  by 
Lamech,  because  he  said:  "This  same  shall  comfort 
u&  from  the  works  and  labors  of  our  hands,  on  the 
earth  which  God  hath  oureed."  (Gen.  v.  29.)  When 
the  Saviour  of  mankind  received  from  God  hiraseL'  a 
name,  it  could  not  fail  to  be  oue  descriptive  of  His 
high  and  gracious  office ;  and  the  Name  of  Jesus  doth, 


im\  II '  ^ 


T 


00 


tlOt  HOLY   MAMK  OV  jnCI. 


in  trutli,  signify  u  saviour.  In  this  it«  mt'ftning  i« 
trfaaured  up  its  awe  lne«8.  It  is  a  nanw  m  prepnaut 
with  merciful  recollectlutis,  with  motives  of  grfttitude, 
with  -mnrancP!*  of  hope,  with  honvtMily  comfort,  and 
withciiusiH  of  joy,  AH  to  be  the  ahrid  'ment,  an  it  wrie, 
mid  easenoe  of  wliatever  itdigion  ha«  brought  of  ble«». 
ing  down  from  Heaven. 

Wiio  dooH  not  know  what  choicest  delicacies  of  feel- 
ing may  be  condtmsed  within  the  hhi:  U  compass  of  a 
little  nan)e«     How  the  name  of  home  will  bring  to 
the  exile's  heart  more  ideas  than  a  volume  of  eloquent 
deBcription?    How  the  title  of  child  or  parent,  wife, 
or  sister,  will  stir  t\v    affections  of  a  bereaved  survi- 
vor 1     And  in  this  Name  of  Jesus,  we  shall  find  it  '  • 
be  so,  if  we  duly  meditate  upon  it.     It  is  the  name 
more  especially  of  His  infancy,  and  the  name  of  His 
passion.     During  the  important,  but  to  us  less  dear, 
interval  of  His  life,  while  engaged  in  the  task  of 
preaching  His  doctrines,  men  addressed  Him  as  Kabbi, 
or  Master ;  He  was  saluted  with  titles  of  well-desei-ved 

respect. 

But  while  yet  u  child,  and  when  abandoned  by 
"human  favor  to  the  ignominy  of  the  cross,  we  know 
Him  by  no  name,  we  read  of  Him  in  the  Gospel  by 
no  name,  but  that  of  Jesus.  And  those  surely  u.  e 
the  two  portions  of  His  life  wherein  principally  He 
proposes  Himself  as  the  object  of  our  love.  No ; 
think  of  Him  by  that  Name,  and  you  cannot  present 
Him  to  your  imagination  as  an  object  of  awe  or 
dread,  as  just  or  terrible.  He  smiles  upon  you  as  an 
infant  in  tho  arms  of  His  maiden  mother ;  He  seems 
to  stretch  tbrth  to  you  His  little  hands  from  the 


mwinwi 


■nw*ni 


iieAning  u 
I  pref;(naut 

grat'uiule, 
•mtort,  ftud 

m  it  were, 
ht  of  bltwt- 

OtM  of  feel- 
)mpa89  of  a 
ill  bvinp^  to 
of  eloquent 
arent,  wife, 
aved  survi- 
ill  find  it  •  . 
s  the  name 
ame  of  Hid 
s  less  dear, 
;lie  task  of 
m  as  Kal)bi, 
ell-desei'ved 

andoned  by 
88,  we  know 
e  Gospel  by 
0  surely  n  « 
incipally  He 
love.  No ; 
nnot  present 
,  of  awe  or 
on  you  as  an 
•;  He  seems 
is  from  the 


MM 


TUX  UOLY   KMtii  or  JtCiUI. 


fl 


lU«ig«r  of  Bethlehem  ;  you  see  j  f im  reixmlng,  on  the 
way  to  Egypt,  auiidHt  His  bleiiHed  taniily;  or  yovk 
think  of  Him  loat  to  Him  parents,  and  fou«(i  again  by 
them  in  t'  e  Tcunplo.  Through  all  these  ttoenes,  what 
can  you  do  le«8  than  love  Him, — the  Godiike  child 
that  bears  the  grievances  of  unnecessary  infancy  for 
!  >ve  of  yoii  During  uU  this  time  He  annwered  to  no 
other  name  th.m  that  of  Jesus, — a  Name  rendered  to 
tM  doubly  weeL  the  lips  o(  her  who  first  addresaed 
it  to  Him. 

As  you  wi! '  think  on  His  Name  in  hours  of  deeper 
meditaii^o  and  repentance;  and  straightways  yoa 
•hall  see  Him  transformed  into  the  man  of  sorrows, 
the  bearer  of  our  griefs.  You  shall  see  Him  cast 
upon  the  gi'ound  in  the  prayer  of  agony,  swallowed 
up  in  mortal  anguish ;  you  shall  follow  Him  through 
itep«»  too  painful  to  be  here  rehearsed,  to  the  grt^at 
sacrifice  of  Calvary.  When  you  behold  Him  there 
stretched  upon  His  cross,  and  expiring  in  cruel  tor- 
ment, yon  will  ask  of  any  who  stand  gazing  upon 
Him,  by  what  name  they  know  Him,  and  all  will  an- 
swer, "  by  the  Name  written  above  His  head,  '  Jesus 
of  Nazareth.'  "  No  other  name  will  Huit  Him  in  these 
passages  of  His  life  but  this.  "We  cannot  bring  oui'- 
selves  to  call  Him  here  our  Lord,  our  Messias,  the 
Christ,  our  Teacher.  They  are  but  cold  and  formal 
titles  of  honor,  when  given  to  Him  at  Bethlehem  or 
on  Calvary.  One  name  alone,  the  adorable  name  of 
Jesus,  satisfies  the  desires  of  our  heart,  and  utters  in  a 
breath  its  accumulated  feelings.  Hence,  the  Seraph 
of  Assisium,  as  St.  Francis  has  been  called,  than  whom 
no  other  on  earth  ever  more  closely  imitated  or  m- 


•Mm 


91 


TIIR   IU)LT   NAME  or  JKHtTll. 


■emhled,  m  fnr  nn  raftn  nmy,  th«  Son  of  Go<1,  ever 
clMMiahed  with  pt'culinr  devotion  th«  early  infancy 
and  the  panaion  of  Je«iw,  and  by  ft  natural  conw- 
quence,  never,  M  Bt.  Bonaventure  telU  r,i,  heard 
that  nacred  Name  pronounced,  but  a  bright  glow 
of  gratitude  and  delight  diffused  iUelf  over  but  coun- 

tenonce.  ' 

St.  Bernard,  too,  the  warmth  of  whose  devout  ou^ 
breaks  the  coldness  of  our  age  would  almost  deem  ex- 
travagant, overflows  with  the  most  affectionate  en- 
thusiasm  when  he  comments  on  this  blessed  Name. 
It  was,  as  he  says,  to  him,  "honey  in  th    mouth,  music 
to  the  eur,  and  jubilee  in  the  heart."    "  If  thou  writest, 
I  And  no  relish  in  it  unless  I  read  there,  Jesus.     If 
thou  discoursest,  it  hath  no  savor  for  me  unless  the 
Name  of  Jesus  be  heard."     (Serm.  xv.  in  Cant.)     Yet 
even  we,  with  all  our  lukcwarmness,  will  not  occa- 
sionally  help  feeling  some  small  portion  of  this  holy 
ardor.    Never  will  our  secret  prayer  warm  into  fer- 
vent  and   loving   supplication,  without    this  Name 
frequently  escaping  from  our  lips.     We  shall  dwell 
upon  it  with  a  tenderer  emotion  than  on  any  other 
whereby   we  address  God,  our  salvation.    It  will, 
when  often  pronounced,  unlock  the  more  recondite 
stores  of  our  affections,  too  seldom  opened  in  the  pies- 
ence  of  God ;  it  will  be  as  wings,  to  the  soul,  of  aspi- 
ration  and  love  soaring  towards  the  possession  of  our 

true  country. 

And  now,  applying  this  quality  of  His  ever-blessed 
Name  to  this  preaching  of  His  word,--what  more  can 
we  require  to  recommend  it,  than  its  being  proclaimed 
in  that  His  Name?     Who  shall  be  able  to  resist  a 


MKIB 


Ood,  ev«r 
•ly  infancy 
lUiil  couse- 
r,i,  heard 
right  glow 
ir  bia  coutt* 


levout  out- 
fit deem  ex- 
tionate   en- 
Hued  Name, 
louth,  music 
hou  writt'Ht, 
,  JesuH.    If 
unlesa  the 
:ant.)     Yet 
II  not  occa* 
of  this  holy 
rra  into  fer- 
thiti  Name 
bhall  dwell 
m  any  other 
m.    It  will, 
re  recondite 
I  in  the  pres- 
Boul,  of  aspi- 
essioQ  of  our 

I  ever-blessed 
hat  more  can 
ig  proclaimed 
e  to  resist  a 


,  wnMI- 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


»-*  ill    12.5 


I? 


r-   lllii 


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6^ 


THE   HOLY   NAiME  OF  JESUS. 


03 


snmraons  addressed  to  him  under  this  most  winning 
sanction  ?  Who  shall  refuse  his  heart,  when  claimed 
by  One  who  bears  such  a  title  to  his  love  ?  When  we 
shall  address  the  sinner,  immersed  in  his  vices,  or  en- 
slaved to  his  passions,  what  shall  we  need  to  say,  be- 
yond the  eloquent  appeal  of  this  most  blessed  Name  ? 
We  will  place  before  him  all  that  his  Saviour  has  done 
to  raise  him  from  sin,  and  gain  his  love.  On  His  be- 
half, and  in  His  Name,  we  will  conjure  him  to  answer 
with  a  generous  heart  the  call  upon  his  affections. 
We  will  paint  as  best  we  can  the  dark  ingratitude 
and  enormous  guilt  of  making  this  Name,  as  far  as  he 
can,  an  empty  sound,  without  character  or  meaning  as 
regards  him.  Or  we  will  show  him  how  that  Jesus, 
»v'ho  ascended  to  Heaven,  will  one  day  return  bearing 
the  same  Name,  but  as  an  outraged  title  that  pleads 
for  vengeance,  to  punish  his  unfeeling  conduct. 

When  we  shall  see  the  slothful,  faint-hearted  Chris- 
tian, whose  desires  are  good,  while  bis  efforts  are  weak, 
staggering  along  the  right  path,  but  scarce  standing 
upright  thereon,  how  better  can  we  address  him,  to 
arouse  and  strengthen  him,  than  by  recounting  to  him 
the  earnestness  of  purpose  which  the  very  Name  of 
Jesus  imports  in  Him  that  bore  it,  to  save  and  win 
his  souL  It  described  an  office  of  painful  and  ardu- 
ous discharge,  through  suffering  and  death ;  He  who 
undertook  it,  would  fain  keep  the  thought  of  it  ever 
before  His  eyes,  by  bearing,  e'^en  in  the  apparent 
thoughtlessness  of  infancy,  the  name  which  must  ever 
have  recalled  it.  And  at  the  sight  of  such  steadiness 
in  love,  such  earnestness  of  pei-severance  in  care  of 
him,  will  he  refuse  an  earnestness  of  gratitude  and  a 


~T 


94 


THE  HOLY    NAME  OF  JESUS. 


Bteadinesa   of  requitaU      Will    he  refuse  anytbiog 
which  ill  that  Name  is  required  ? 

If  ever  it  he  necessary  to  offer  consolation  to  the 
virtuous,  in  affliction  and  distress  of  mind,  in  tempta- 
tion or  desolation  of  spirit,  what  will  be  required  but 
to  repeat  to  him  this  dear  Name,  so  often  a  source  of 
refreshment  to  his  soul,  so  often  his  shield  in  time  of 
conflict,  so  often  his  i-eward  in  heavenly  contempt 
tion.  It  will  be  to  him  as  manna  in  the  desert,  or  as 
dew'toHermon— a  quickening  food,  a  fertilizing  in- 
fluence,  by  whose  vigor  he  shall  be  restored  to  com- 
fort  and  inward  joy.  ^       , 

Such  shall  be,  with  God's  blessing,  «  our  speech  and 
our  teaching,  not  in  the  persuasive  words  of  human 
wisdom,"  but  in  Jesus  Christ  and  Him  crucified.    (1 
Cor.  ii.  4.)    Nothing  else  shall  we  judge  ourselves  to 
know.     But  if  we  address  ourselves  to  you  in  His 
Name,  in  this  Name  do  ye  also  hear.  Remember,  that 
this  Name  was  given  Him  foi-  you,  that  is,  for  each 
amongst  us.     It  was  one  which  without  us  He  could 
not  have  borne;  for  it  expresses  His  relation  to  us. 
To  each  of  us  ought  it  to  be  deai-,  by  each  of  us  ought 
it  to  be  cherished,  and  lovingly  pronounced.    Speak 
it  in  trouble,  and  it  shall  bring  you  comfort;  speak  it 
in  temptation,  and  it  shall  give  you  victory;  speak  it 
in  times  of  relaxing  fervor,  and  it  shall  throw  flx« 
into  your  hearts;  speak  it  in  devotion,  and  it  shall 
perfect  you.    There  is  no  time,  no  place,  where  it  la 
out  of  season,  if  to  the  lips  at  least  to  the  thought; 
there  is  no  action  so  blessed  which  it  will  not  im- 
prove;  there  is  no  forgetfulness  so  deep  fi'om  which  it 
will  not  arouse  you. 


■  atiiVi-iJiitfiiA-M 


anytbiog 

on  to  the 
1  tempta^ 
uired  but 
soarce  of 
Q  time  of 
antemplar 
3ert,  or  ag 
ilizing  ia- 
i  to  com- 

peech  and 
of  human 
jified.    (1 
rselves  to 
[)a  in  His 
mber,  that 
s,  for  each 
I  He  conld 
ion  to  us. 
)f  us  ought 
id.    Speak 
t ;  speak  it 
;  speak  it 
throw  fire 
id  it  shall 
where  it  is 
b  thought; 
ill  not  im' 
m  which  it 


THE   HOLY   NAME   OF  JESUS. 


05 


r 


But,  my  brethren,  there  are  two  periods  when  its 
sweetness  seems  doubly  sweet.    For  as  we  have  seen 
that  this  is  peculiarly  the  name  of  Our  blessed  Saviour 
in  His  infancy  and  in  His  passion,  so  n      they  two 
corresponding  periods  of  our  lives,  when  it  best  ap- 
peal's to  become  us.     It  is  a  sweet  Name  when  lisped 
by  babes  and  sucklings,  joined  through  early  sugges- 
tion, with  those  first  names  dear  to  parental  affection, 
which  form  so  firm  a  root  for  filial  love.    It  is  good  to 
teach  your  little  ones  to  utter  it  as  they  do  your  own, 
that  He  who  became  an  infant  for  their  sakes  may 
gro.)  up  in  their  hearts  as  the  first  companion  of  their 
dawning  attachment,  and  have  His  love  implanted  as 
deeply  at  least  as  any  earthly  affection.     But  oh  I  it  is 
sweeter  still  to  the  tongue  of  the  dying  who  in  life 
have  loved  it  and  Him  who  chose  it.    Insipid  to  the 
ears  of  such  a  one  will  be  the  catalogue  of  his  titles, 
his  honors,  or  his  possessions.    Without  power  to  help 
will  their  names  be,  whom  the  bonds  of  the  flesh  have 
knit  to  him,  to  be  separated  from  them  at  that  hour. 
He  will  search  his  soul  for  some  affection  which  can 
stretch  across  the  gi-ave,  for  soma  link  between  the 
heart  of  flesh  and  the  disembodied  spirit.    He  will 
earnestly  desire  some  token  to  show  that  he  was  fore- 
chosen  here  below,  some  pass-word  which  angels  shall 
recognise,  .some  charm  which  evil  spirits  shall  dread. 
He  will  want  some  name  written  upon  his  garment 
and  upon  his  forehead,  which  at  first  glance  may  es- 
tablish his  claim  to  the  mansions  of  bliss.    And  all 
this  he  will  find  in  this  holy  Name  of  Jesus,  the  God 
of  his  salvation.    If  through  life  he  have  received  and 
loved  it,  as  the  summary  of  what  under  it  was  wrought 


T 


tHM 


\ 


06 


THE  HOLY  NAME  OF  JE8UH. 


for  his  salvation ;  if  he  have  often  fed  his  heart  npon  its 
sweet  nourishment,  he  will  find  in  it  an  object  of  his 
affections,  imperishable  and  unchangeable,  enduring 
beyond  his  dissolution,  and  even  more  powerful  m  the 
next  world  than  in  this.    It  shall  seem  written  in  let- 
ters of  light  over  the  gate  of  eternity;  it  shall  seem 
graven  with  a  pencil  of  fire  on  his  heart;  and  even 
from  very  habit  and  strengthened  practice,  his  lips 
will  struggle  to  arrest  his  laat  parting  breath,  and 
form  it  into  that  r  icred  Name,  inaudible  save  to  an- 
gels, whispered  now  only  to  Him  that  bore  it. 

Oh  be  this  Holy  Name  called  down  upon  us  all  I  be 

it  our  protection  through  this  our  earthly  pilgrimage; 
be  it  the  assistance  of  this  our  ministry  and  of  your 
patience  and  profit.  Be  it  our  comfort  in  death,  and 
our  joy  ii  eternity. 


rt  upon  its 
ject  of  hia 

enduring 
rful  in  the 
tten  in  let- 
shall  seem 
;  and  even 
e,  his  lips 
►reath,  and 
lave  to  an- 

it. 

i  us  all  I  be 
pilgrimage ; 
lid  of  your 

death,  and 


SERMON  V. 
Sbe  two  (^ttnt  ^0UtU»  ci  f  ove. 

John,  ri.  11. 

"  And  Jesua  took  the  loaves,  and  when  Ha  had  given  thanki,  Ha  dlatributad 
to  them  that  were  sat  doTm." 

There  were  supposed  conjunctions  of  the  heavenly 
bodies,  my  brethren,  which  in  ancient  times  were  con- 
fe'dered  of  favorable  augury,  as  promising  great  bless- 
ings to  all  beneath  their  influence.  And  if  such  spec- 
ulations were  mere  vanity,  springing  only  from  the 
foolish  fancies  of  men,  you  will  forgive  me,  if  I  own  to 
myself  to  discover  something  similar  in  the  peculiar 
concurrence  of  two  most  holy  mysteries  in  the  celebra- 
tion of  this  day.  For,  on  the  one  hand,  the  incident 
related  in  the  Sunday's  Gospel, — the  feeding  of  five 
thousand  persons  with  five  loaves,— and  the  subse- 
quent discouree  thereon  held  by  our  Redeemer,  forci- 
bly turn  my  mind  to  the  contemplation  of  that  divine 
Sacrament,  wherein  He  feeds  us  in  this  wilderness 
with  bread  truly  descended  from  Heaven,— His  own 
adorable  Body  and  Blood.  But  at  the  same  time,  the 
festival  which  has  fallen  upon  this  same  day,  comme- 
morative of  the  angel's  annunciation  to  Mary,  necessa- 
rily draws  our  thoughts  to  another  still  greater  mys- 
tery  on  that  occasion,  wrought  in  favor  of  man ;  for 
no  sooner  had  the  spotless  Virgin  given  her  consent  to 

7 


1 


I 


08 


TUK  TWO   UHEAT   MySTERIKH   OF   LOVK. 


the  lieftvenly  tnessngo,  hy  thmts  Meswd  wordu,  "  Be- 
hold the  hftndmniil  of  the  I^ird,  he  it  done  unto  me 
nccording  to  tliy  word,"  than  the  Inciirnution  of  the 
Son  of  God  took  place  in  her  wotnb,  through  the 
power  of  the  Most  High,  and  the  Word  made  fleah 
entered  on  that  courae  of  blessing,  which  ended  in  our 
salvation. 

Either  of  those  two  mysteries,  my  brethren,  is  a 
I'ich  theme  for  discourse,  but  richer  still  for  medita- 
tion.    Each  of  them  presents  to  us  an  act  of  self-devo- 
tion on  the  part  of  our  dear  Redeemer,  whereby  He 
gives  Himself  up  unreservedly  to  us,  and  makes  His 
own  abasement  a  means  of  our  sanctiflcation.    The 
more  they  are  considered  together,  the  stronger  and 
more  numerous  the  analogies  they  present,  till  one 
seems  to  be  but  the  natural  consequence  and  accom- 
plishment of  the  other.     Nor  is  it  merely  in  the  fancy 
of  the  moderns  that  this  close  resemblance  between 
the  myst<!rie8  of  the  Incarnation  and  the  Eucharist  is 
to  be  found.     It  has  been  remarked  by  the  wise  and 
venerable  teachera  of  the  ancient  Church.    For  not 
only  in  mattei-s  of  controversy  regarding  one  of  these 
mysteries,  is  the  other  employed  to  afford  illustration 
or  argument,  but  they  are  often  compared  together  by 
the  Fathere,  as  similar  in  grandeur,  efficacy,  and  love. 
St.  Ambrose,  after  clearly  stating  that  the  words  of 
consecration  change  the   bread  and   wine  into   the 
Body  and  Blood  of  Christ,  as  much  as  Moses  changed 
his  rod  into  a  serpeut,  proceeds  to  say:  "We  will 
now  establish  this  mystery  by  the  truth  itself  of  the 
Incarnation.     Was  the  order  of  Nature  followed,  when 
Jesus  was  born  of  a  Virgin?    Plainly  not.    Then 


. 'n'miili'Mriji'ii  'Hmi 


T 


K. 

r>t(lfi,  " Be- 
0  unto  me 
ion  of  tlie 
rough  the 
nade  flesh 
dt'd  in  our 

thren,  is  a 
or  medita* 
f  self-devo- 
hereby  He 
makes  His 
tion.    The 
'ODgei*  and 
it,  till  one 
ind  accora- 
i  the  fancy 
;e  between 
Sucharist  is 
3  wise  and 
.    For  not 
me  of  these 
illustration 
logether  by 
,  and  love, 
le  words  of 
e  into  the 
ies  changed 
"We  will 
tself  of  the 
owed,  when 
not.    Then 


THK  TWO   OREAT   MY.STElllKS   OF   LOVK. 


99 


why  is  that  order  to  be  looked  for  hereT'  (De 
luitiandis.) 

"  You  believe,"  says  St.  Ephraim,  the  glory  of  Edessa 
and  the  light  of  the  Eastern  Church,  "  you  believe 
that  Christ  the  Son  of  Got'  was  born  for  you  in  the 
flesh  ?  .  .  .  Believe  then,  and  with  a  firm  faith  receive 
the  Body  and  Blood  of  our  Lord."  (De  Nat.  Dei.) 
In  like  manner,  St.  Augustine  writes,  "Christ  took 
upon  him  eai'th  from  the  earth,  because  flesh  is  from 
the  earth,  and  this  flesh  He  took  from  the  flesh  of 
Mary ;  and  because  He  here  walked  in  this  flesh,  even 
this  same  flesh  He  gave  us  to  eat  for  our  salvation." 
(In  Psalm.) 

In  like  manner,  not  to  multiply  authorities,  St.  Pe- 
ter ChrysologuH  says,  that  Christ  is  the  bread  which, 
fii-st  sown  in  the  Vii-gin's  womb,  is  finally  brought  to 
the  altar,  to  be  our  daily  food.  (Serra.  Ixvii.)  St. 
John  Chrysostom  compares  the  altar  to  the  manger, 
in  which  Christ  lies  not  wrapped  in  swaddling  clothes, 
but  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
where  we,  like  the  wise  men,  adore  Him,  (Orat.  de  S. 
Philog.)  And  a  later  writer,  the  Patriarch  Dionysius, 
though  belonging  to  a  separated  Church,  says,  that  the 
altar  is  the  symbol  of  the  Vii-gin's  womb,  on  which  the 
Holy  Ghost  descends,  transmutes  the  bread  and  wine, 
and  makes  them  become  the  Body  and  Blood  of  Christ. 
(Hor.  Syr.  p.  68.) 

These  examples,  which  might  with  little  trouble 
have  been  multiplied,  are  sufficient  to  prove,  that  it  is 
no  result  of  scholastic  ingenuity — no  fanciful  reasoning 
of  modern  theology,  to  discover  a  marked  parallelism 
and  resemblance  between  the  two  mysteries,  which 


■ana 


T 


^■^ 


100  TlIB  TWO  OBIAT  MYSTIRIKH  OF   LOVE. 

the  circutngtances  of  today  have  brought  together  be- 
fore our  consideration.     Unwilling,  therefore,  to  give 
np  either,  I  will  unite  the  two;  and,  after  the  venera- 
ble authorities  I  have  quoted,  will  endeavor  to  unfold 
them  united  to  your  pious  contemplation,  treating  of 
them  both,  flrat  ns  a  two-fold  mystery  ot   humilia- 
tion, and  as  a  double  mystery  of  grace.    The  whole 
struggle  between  faith  and  weak  yet  haughty  reason, 
should,  methii.ks,  be  directed  to  the  conquest  of  a  very 
narrow  point,  which  if  faith  has  won,  there  remains  no 
further  room  for  contest.     All  the  difficulty  of  belief 
should  seem  to  rest  upon  the  admission  of  only  these 
two  words :  "  E<!ce  vemo,"— Behold  I  come.    And  well 
are  they  said  to  have  been  inscribed  by  the  Eternal 
Word  in  the  very  head  or  frontispiece  of  the  Book, 
wherein  are  registered  the  merciful  counsels  of  God. 
For  they  are  as  a  seed  from  which  fruits  of  incalcula- 
ble abundance  as  well  as  sweetness  must  spring ;  they 
are  as  the  theme  from  which  the  richest  strains  of 
harmonious  music  may  be  developed  ;  they  are  a  sum- 
niary  of  deep  incomprehensible  wisdom  from  which  a 
successive  series  of  heavenly  truths  may  be  evolved. 
Nay,  if  they  are  but  on  the  first  page  of  that  blessed 
book,  there  must  be  much  to  come  after  them  to  fill 

the  volume. 

Admit  these  words,  and  whei-e  will  your  faith  come 
to  an  end,  or  where  shall  you  be  able  to  say,  "I  have 
believed  enough"?  When  the  Son  of  God,  the  con- 
substantial  to  the  Father,  hath  once  consented  to  take 
upon  Him  the  nature  of  man,  frail,  disfigured,  and  dis- 
graced  by  sin,  it  is  not  surely  for  man's  reason  to  cal- 
culate what  more  He  may  be  impelled  to  do.    After 


aMj^afjutimiMui.-  ■« 


-4tk. 


TIIK  TWO    ORKAT    MYHTKIIIW   Or   LOVK. 


101 


jetber  be- 
e,  to  give 
bo  vencra- 

to  unfuM 
reating  of 
;  humilio- 
rhe  whole 
ity  reason, 
t  of  a  very 
'einains  no 
y  of  belief 
only  these 

And  well 
he  Eternal 

the  Book, 
(Is  of  God. 
•f  incalcula- 
ring;  they 

strains  of 

are  a  sum* 
)ra  which  a 
be  evolved, 
hat  blessed 
;hem  to  fill 

•  faith  como 
ay,  "  I  have 
od,  the  con- 
ited  to  take 
•ed,  and  dis- 
asoQ  to  cal- 
do.    After 


the  fliHt  step,  from  the  glory  of  Heaven  and  tho  bmom 
of  the  Father,  into  the  womb,  however  pure,  of  woman, 
th«  »tr|)  from  thin  to  the  cross,  and  from  the  crosa  to 
the  nltar,  must  worn  but  an  comparatively  short  in  His 
gigantic  career  of  love.  For,  ^"hatever  may  befal  His 
humanity,  insults,  injuries,  torments,  death,  U  but  as  a 
mere  nothing  compared  with  what  He  Himself  assumed 
to  His  divinity. 

What  is  a  cross  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  man, 
compared  with  the  burden  of  the  flesh  united  to  the 
Godhead?  What  are  blows  upon  His  cheek,  or 
thorns  upon  His  head,  compared  to  the  humiliation  of 
feeling,  the  cravings  o*"  human  wants,  in  the  pewon  of 
a  God-Man  ?  What  were  naila  through  His  hands, 
or  a  spear  in  His  side,  compared  with  the  ignominy 
of  submitting  to  the  temptations  of  the  Evil  One  ? 
What  was  death,  compared  with  the  imputation  of 
guilt  to  which  His  Incarnation  brought  Him, — yea,  of 
the  guilt  of  the  entire  world  ?  No,  when  once  that 
first  plunge  into  the  abasement  of  human  nature  had 
been  made, — when  the  entire  abyss  of  its  misery  had 
thus  been  absorbed  into  Himself,  the  rest  must  be  as 
mere  drops  and  sprinklings,  concerning  which  a  lov- 
ing heart  will  not  condescend  to  calculate. 

Nay,  there  seems  to  be  something  ungenerous  and 
unkind,  in  tbe  attempt  to  establish  any  thing  like  a 
proportion  between  our  belief,  and  our  powers  of  com- 
prehension, or  our  powers  of  love,  when  once  we  have 
seen  that  the  very  first  stride  went  so  infinitely  beyond 
our  measurement.  There  should  seem  to  have  been 
laid  in  the  first  mystery  of  Christ's  earthly  existence, 
Bucb  a  strong  foundation  of  confidence,  as  would  al- 


I 


i* 


102 


•m*  TWO  ORZAT   MTmCRIKB   OV    LOVE. 


low  ft  nupomtriictore  of  nny  oxtont  ftiid  of  Riiy  mnim. 
TluTO  should  ftpponr  in  His  fliHt  words,  a  promiso  of 
■o  muoh,  M  should  prevent  hH  surprisM  itt  whiitover 
TOiKlit  f«dh)w  itj  fulfilrnwnt.  Man  shouhl  listm  to  iti 
unfohling  woudors,  t(»  its  tnlti  of  lovo,  with  th«  Hiui- 
plicity  of  a  very  child,  who,  upon  oftch  r»fcitftl  of  a 
niiuvellouo  incident,  only  cr/ivcs  and  expects  another 
still  more  strange,  and  is  Ou.y  disappointed  and  grieved 
when  the  history  is  cloned. 

And,  in  like  manner,  when  a  man  with  a  heart  dis. 
posed  to  love,  has  learnt  and  believed,  that  out  of 
affection  to  him,  a  God  of  infinite  power  and  majesty 
has  become  a  helpless  infant,  seeming  completely  as 
the  children  of  men  in  a  similar  condL'.on,  yet  pos- 
sessing all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  ;  then  that  this 
infant,  grown  up  to  man's  estate,  has  died  an  igno 
roinioua  death,  impelled  by  the  same  love,  to  save 
him  lost,  at  the  expense  of  His  own  life,— will  it  any 
longer  seem  strange,  or  incredible  to  him,  that  even 
after  these  efforts  of  incomprehensible  love,  this  im- 
tiring  benefactor  had  discovered  and  adopted  a  new, 
unheard-of  way  to  complete  His  scheme  of  benefits- 
has  submitted  to  a  new  act  of  humiliation,  so  aa  to 
become  our  food  ? 

It  would  be  indeed  too  inestimable  a  benefit  for 
him  to  admit  without  proof;  but  against  this  his 
heart,  at  least,  wonld  not  allow  his  reason  to  start 
objections.  For  any  of  us  might  be  called  upon  to 
give  satisfactory  evidence,  that  an  affectionate  Father 
has  left  him  a  magnificent  legacy,  but  we  shall  think 
it  nothing  strange  or  wonderful  if  we  were  told  that, 
being  able,  He  had  done  so. 


wimw]  SJ'iwwgiw^^w^-wwp^** 


liny  miiHH. 
promiao  nf 

iHtcn  to  its 
1  the  8iin> 
>citnl  of  a 
tfl  another 
ml  grieved 

I  heart  dis^ 
bftt  out  of 
id  majenty 
npletely  as 
n,  yet  pos- 
n  that  this 
1  an  igno 
^e,  to  aave 
-will  it  any 
,  that  even 
ire,  this  un- 
)ted  a  new, 
'  benefits — • 
n,  so  as  to 

benefit  for 
st  this  his 
on  to  start 
ed  upon  to 
oate  Father 
shall  think 
)  told  that, 


TOK  TWO  OKKAT   MYrtTKItlKH   nV    I.OVK. 


103 


lint  the  rewnibliinoo  lietween  thtt  two  mysteries  of 
the  Incaruiition  and  Kuchanst  will  l)oar  a  closer  in* 
vettigation.  In  Itoth  there  is  an  outward  veil,  hiding 
from  tlie  eye  of  flewh  a  precious  luul  divine  depowit, 
visible  only  to  that  of  faith.  Wlieji  the  wise  n»eu 
came  from  the  Kast,  under  the  conduct  of  a  mi- 
raoulons  star,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  they  were 
but  little  preparcil  for  what  they  were  to  discover 
at  Bethlehem.  The  very  ci'  .mstanco  of  their  in- 
quiry at  Jerusalem,  for  Him  who  was  born  King  of 
the  JewH,  shows  that  they  expected  to  find  His  birth 
treated  as  a  public  event,  and  His  eutran'>o  into  His 
kingdom  hailed  with  festivals  of  joy.  Yet  they  find 
Herod  ignorant  not  merely  of  the  occurrence,  but  of  the 
place  where  it  was  likely  to  happen,  and  obliged  to 
summon  the  priests  to  meet  their  iniiuiries.  What  a 
shock  was  hero  to  their  expectations  1  Still,  en- 
couraged by  the  reappearance  of  the  star,  they  prose- 
cute their  journey  with  undiminished  ardor,  and  arrive 
at  Bethlehem.  Their  miraculous  guide  points  to  a 
poor  dilapidated  shed,  not  likely  to  be  tenanted  by 
any  but  outcasts  of  human  society;  yet,  strong  in 
faith,  they  enter  in. 

What  do  they  discover?  A  little  babe,  wrapped 
up  as  the  poorest  infant  would  be,  and  laid  upon  a 
bundle  of  straw!  And  is  this  all  that  they  have 
crossed  the  deserts  to  see  ?  Is  this  all  that  they  aban- 
doned their  homes  and  palaces  to  discover?  When 
they  set  off  from  their  homes,  their  friends  derided 
them,  perchance,  for  undertaking  so  long  a  journey, 
and  on  the  guidance  of  a  wayward  meteor,  that  might 
abandon  them  in  the  midst  of  some  frightful  wilder- 


'S 


i 

I 


T 


104  THE   TWO   GREAT   MYSTETWES   OF  LOVE. 

ncss,    Many  probably  thought  it  little  better  than 
madness  to  go  so  far  in  search  of  a  foreign  sovereign, 
only  yet  an  infant.     What  an  account  will  they  have 
to  give  on  their  return  of  their  success,  and  of  the  eu'- 
ployuient  made  of  their  precious  gifts  1     Will  not 
their  very  attendants  ridicule  thera  for  their  credulity, 
in  coming  so  far  to  find  only  a  child  in  a  manger  ? 
Will  they  dare  to  report  what  they  have  discovered 
to  Herod  ?    In  spite  of  all  such  obstacles,  which  pride 
must  have  raised  to  a  simple  faith,  without  any  new 
assurances  to  encourage  them ;   without  any  miracu- 
lous splendor,  round  the  humble  group  they  have 
found,  to  overawe  them;    without  any  evidences  to 
convince  them,  they  trust  implicitly  to  the  sure  guid- 
ance of  that  star,  which  having  led  them  safe  through 
all  their  journey,  first  to  Jerusalem  and  then  to  Beth- 
lehem, they  do  not  conceive  likely  now  to  turn  traitor 
and  mislead  them ;  they  prostrate  themselves  before 
that  child,  they  adore  Him,  and  by  their  gifts  do  Him 
supreme  homage,  acknowledging  Him  as  their  Lord 

and  their  God. 

If  we  then  have  in  like  manner  been  led  by  the 
light  of  God,  through  all  the  obscure  paths  of  faith, 
shall  we  hesitate  to  trust  oar  guides  to  the  utmost? 
If  His  word,^which  told  us  how  His  Son  became  man, 
and  has  been  believed,  tells  us  no  less,  that  He  has 
assumed  another  disguise  of  love,  and  shrouded  His 
glories  still  further  for  our  benefit,  shall  it  not  be 
equally  believed?  If  His  Church,  which  hath  been 
our  principal  conductor  through  the  mazes  of  early 
tradition,  whereon  alone  the  belief  in  the  Divinity  of 
the  Incarnate  Word  can  be  solidly  built,  fixing  its  di- 


y. 


ter  than 
)vei'eign, 
ley  have 
f  the  eir- 
^ill  not 
iredulity, 
manger  ? 
iscovered 
ich  pride 
any  new 
J  miracu- 
iiey  have 
lences  to 
ure  guid- 
3  through 
\  to  Beth- 
ra  traitor 
'^63  before 
3  do  Him 
heir  Lord 

(d  by  the 
3  of  faith, 
e  utmost? 
;ame  man, 
\i  He  has 
)uded  Hia 
.  it  not  be 
hath  been 
IS  of  early 
Divinity  of 
cing  its  di' 


THK  TWO   GREAT  MYBTETIIKS  OF  LOVE. 


U)ii 


recting  ray,  in  the  end,  upon  that  humble  tabernacle, 
assures  you,  with  the  same  voice  that  till  now  you 
have  believed,  that  therein  dwells  the  God  of  your 
souls,  your  dear  Saviour,  no  longer  under  the  form  of 
flesh,  but  with  that  same  flesh,  in  its  turn,  concealed 
under  the  appearance  of  bread,  why  will  you  hesitate 
to  prostrate  yourself  and  adore  ?     If  He  Himself,  of 
whom  reverently  we  treat,  whose  words  we  unhesitat- 
ingly receive,  when  he  tells  us  that  He  and  His  Fa- 
ther are  one,  taking  up  this  bread,  solemnly  declares 
it  to  be  His  Body,  shall  we  make  difference  between 
word  and  word, — reason  away  the  glonous  announce- 
ment of  the  one,  and  not  fear  that  we  are  weakening 
the  testimony  of  the  other  ?    No,  like  those  Eastern 
Kings,  we  will  hush  and  subdue  every  suggestion  of 
pride ;  and  if  the  humiliation  of  our  blessed  Saviour 
in  either  mystery,  shocks  our  sense,  let  it  be  honored 
the  more  with  a  corresponding  humility  of  our  hearts. 
But  if  a  few,  like  the  wise  men  and  the  shepherds, 
worshipped  Him  devoutly  in  the  disguise  of  a  child, 
there  were  many  who,  then  and  afterwards,  refused  to 
acknowledge  Him  for  more  than  He  outwardly  ap- 
peared, a  mere  man,  however  privileged.     And   so 
should  we  not  wonder,  nor  should  our  faith  be  shaken, 
if  many  now  refuse  to  raise  their  belief  above  the  range 
of  their  senses,  and  admit  more  to  be  contained  in  the 
Eucharistic  species  than  they  outwaidly  exhibit.    For 
it  is  easier  to  abstract  from  the  influence  which  our 
senses  exercise  upon  our  judgments,  when  they  are  not 
immediately  called  into  use,  than  where  the  object  of 
inquiry  falls  directly  under  them.    Thus  we  find  that 
the  preaching  of  Christ's  Divinity  was  more  easily  re- 


T 


[•^mmmmmm^^lHfim 


106 


Tire  IWO  GREAT  MYSTERIES  OF   LOVE. 


ceived  from  tha  Apostles  in  distftnt  countries,  where 
His  peraon  had  not  been  seen,  than  in  Judea  and  Je- 
rusalem,  where  men  had  been  familiarized  with  His 
human  form.  And  so  may  it  be  that  many  who,  able 
to  use  the  testimony  of  their  senses  in  disciissing  the 
inquiry  concerning  the  blessed  Sacrament,  prefer  it  to 
every  other,  would  have  acted  similarly  in  regard  of 
our  Saviour's  Godhead,  had  the  same  test  been  within 
their  reach.  Contrary  to  Thomas,  they  believe  be- 
cause they  see  not;  peradventnre,  had  they  seen,  they 
would  not  have  believed. 

But  all  this  is  only  in  the  couree  of  God's  ordinary 
dispensation.  It  would  seem  that  the  love  of  our 
blessed  Redeemer  towards  us  would  never  be  sufficient 
for  His  heart,  unless,  in  some  way,  it  involved  His  suf- 
fering. The  humiliation  of  the  manger  was  but  pre- 
paratory to  the  humiliation  of  the  cross :  and  all  the 
intermediate  space  was  filled  by  privation,  poverty, 
and  sorrow.  He  became  man,  to  all  appearance,  that 
He  might  become  the  reproach  of  men.  And  so  is  it 
no  small  enhancement  to  His  gi'aciousness,  in  thus 
again  abasing  Himself  in  the  adorable  Sacrament,  that 
thereby,  even  after  returning  to  His  glory,  He  has 
remained  exposed  to  the  insults  and  ingratitude  of 

men. 

I  spea^  not  of  those  ignorant  blasphemies  uttered 
against  it  by  those  who  believe  not,  and  know  not 
what  they  do:  still  less  of  those  frightful  outrages 
which  heresy  and  infidelity,  in  moments  of  impious 
frenzy,  have  committed.  But  I  speak  of  our  own  con- 
duct,—K)f  the  treatment  which  He  receives  from  us 
who  believe.    Do  you  not  sometimes  think  the  world 


HiOMMiliiiii 


"^^-T" 


TllE  TWO   GREAT   MYSTERlRj*   OF  LOVE. 


lOT 


;8,  where 
and  Je« 
with  His 
yho,  able 
ssing  the 
efer  it  to 
regard  of 
sn  within 
ilieve  be- 
een,  they 

ordinary 
7e  of  onr 
I  safiicient 
id  His  8uf- 

but  pre- 
d  all  the 

poverty, 
ance,  that 
id  so  is  it 
I,  in  thus 
nent,  that 
',  He  has 
atitude  of 

}8  uttered 
know  not 
[  outrt^es 
»f  impious 
r  own  con- 
s  from  us 
the  world 


innst  have  been  stupidly  blind  to  its  own  happiness 
and  blessing,  to  have  allowed  Jesus  for  thirty  yean  to 
live  hidden  in  a  poor  carpenter's  cottage,  and  not  to 
have  discovered  the  jewel  it  possessed,  and  begun, 
much  earlier  than  it  did,  to  enjoy  His  instructions,  wit- 
ness His  example,  be  benefitted  by  His  miracles,  and 
be  blessed  by  His  presence  ?  But  there  at  least  was 
a  deep  counsel  of  God  that  He  should  lie  concealed. 

What,  then,  shall  we  say  of  ourselves,  who  have 
Him  ever  in  the  midst  of  us,  humble,  indeed,  and  re- 
tired, yet  ever  accessible,  day  and  night  within  the 
reach  of  our  homage  and  petitions,  and  yet  do  so  sel- 
dom visit  Him,  so  seldom  turn  toward?  Him  our  eyes 
or  thoughts  ?  The  churches,  which  should  be  crowded 
all  day  Avith  adorers,  are  comparatively  empty ;  if 
here,  in  Rome,  what  shall  we  say  of  our  own  country  ? 
And  we  seem  to  make  over  our  duty  to  the  lamps 
that  bum  day  and  night,  as  our  hearts  should  do,  be- 
fore the  altar.  Oh  !  it  is  too  true  that  God  seems  to 
have  made  Himself  too  common,— that  we  act  as 
though  we  thought  He  had  demeaned  Himself  too 
low !  For,  as  a  devout  author  observes,  had  He  ap- 
pointed but  one  place  on  earth  wherein  the  adorable 
sacrifice  could  be  offered,  and  but  one  priest  who 
could  administer  it,  what  eager  devotion  would  drive 
crowds  of  believing  Christians  to  adore  at  so  privi- 
leged  a  place  I  And  even  so,  it  would  be  nothing 
more  than  He  formerly  did  for  the  ark  of  His  coven- 
ant, of  settim  wood  and  gold.  But  now  that  He  has 
unreservedly  made  Himself  ovw  to  us, — that  He 
dwells  in  every  part  of  our  cities  and  in  every  hamlet, 
as  though  but  one  of  ourselves, — we  pass  by  the  doors 


■, . 


U'WfftJ'«tW*'i»l''B  M1'M-*W 


J 


108  TlIE  TWO   OBEAT   MYSTERIES   OF   LOVE. 

of  His  temples  without  a  thought  of  Him,  we  enter 
them  often  without  respect,  we  admire  them  and  their 
riches,  but  their  real  treasure  we  heed  not.      And 
would  to  God,  that  only  in  this,  our  neglect,  did  Christ 
suffer  from  us  in  this  blessed  mystery,  and  not  m  a 
way  which,  in   His  Incarnation,  was  spared   Hun  I 
When,  on  this  day,  He  descended  into  the  womb  ot 
Mary  He  found  His  chosen  place  of  confinement  strait, 
indeed,  but  pure  and  holy;  He  dwelt  with  one  whose 
heart  was  entirely  His,  whose  soul  was  free  from  every 
Btain,  whose  desires,  whose  thoughts,  were  in  every 
respect  devoted  unto  God.    But  when,  in  this  blessed 
Sacrament,  He  comes  into  our  breasts,  alas  I    what 
does  He  find  ?    A  chamber,  perhaps,  but  lately  ten- 
anted by  His  hateful  enemy,  sin,  ejected  thence  a  few 
hours  before  by  a  hasty  repentance.     Its  paltry  fur- 
niture is  yet  in  the  disorder  and  confusion  which  thie 
foe  had  caused  there,  bearing  on  every  side  traces  of 
the  riot  and  havoc  committed  within  it  so  long  and  so 
late.    A  few  shreds  and  tattered  scraps  of  virtuous 
protestations  collected  together  in  half  aa  hour,  out  of 
the  stores  6f  our  prayer-books,  have  been  hung  around 
it,  to  cover  its  habitual  bareness.    The  remains  of 
many  a  once  precious  gift,  presents  from  God's  bounty, 
the  torn  fragmenta  of  contracts  of  love  and  promises 
of  service,  lie  scattered  about,  patched  up  for  the  mo- 
ment,  by  its  passing  fervor.    And,  perhaps,  even  in 
the  cornera  of  this  den  yet  lurk,  skulking  from  his 
sight,  irregular  attachments  and  dangerous  affections, 
which  we  have  not  had  courage  to  expel  when  we 
turned  out  his  full-grown  enemies,  but  still  to  his  ey^ 
monstere  of  hateful  shape  and  nature.    Into  this  cell, 


THE  TWO  ORKAT  MYSTERIES   OF  LOVE. 


109 


ve  enter 
md  their 
t.      And 
id  Clirist 
not  in  a 
d   Him  I 
kvomb  of 
nt  strait, 
tie  wliose 
3IU  every 
in  every 
8  blessed 
18 1    what 
itely  ten- 
nce  a  few 
altry  fur- 
hich  this 
traces  of 
ng  and  so 
I  virtuous 
)ur,  out  of 
ng  around 
emains  of 
I's  bounty, 
I  promises 
>r  the  mo- 
>8,  even  in 
from  his 
affections, 
when  we 
■jo  his  eyes 
>  this  cell, 


this  dungeon,  we  invite  Ilim,  the  King  of  Glory,  and 
have  the  courage  to  introduce  Him,  the  living  God ; 
and  He  remembers  the  first  time  He  visited  it,  how 
clean  and  fair  it  wiw,  how  cheerful  and  pleasant  n 
dwelling,  and  how  He  then  decked  it  out  for  us  with 
those  gifts,  and  many  others,  long  since  broken,  or 
lost,  or  flung  away.     And  we,  oh,  do  not  we  feel  our 
cheeks  burning  with  shame,  when  we  have  thus  re- 
ceived Him,  to  think  what  He  has  found  within  us; 
and  to  what  a  degradation  we  have  dragged  the  Son 
of  God  1    What  was  the  hall  of  Herod,  or  the  court 
of  Pilate,  or  the  house  of  Caiphaa,  to  this?     And 
what,  if  when  He  is  once  there,  you  are  so  wretched 
as  to  strike  and  buffet  Him  by  sin  ?     If,  as  too  often 
happens,  on  the  very  day  that  you  have  received  Him 
into  your  bosom,  you  offend  Him :   and  thus  betray 
Him  in  your  own  house  to  your  enemies,  while  dip- 
ping  your  hand  with  Him  into  the  same  dish,  and 
feasting  at  the  same  table  ?     Oh,  how  has  our  dear 
Saviour  di-unk  to  the  dregs  the  cup  of  humiliation 
and  self-abasement,  that  He  might  enable  us  to  drink 
of  the  chalice  of  His  salvation ! 

If  Jesus  hath  twice  humbled  Himself  so  low,  it  was 
love  that  constrained  Him.  For  the  moving  cause, 
the  active  principle  of  both  these  mysteries,  was  affec- 
tion for  us.  When  John,  in  the  sublime  preface  to 
his  Gospel,  describes  to  us  the  Divinity  and  Incaina- 
tion  of  the  Word,  he  sums  it  up  in  these  terms :  "  And 
the  Word  was  made  flesh,  and  dwelt  amongst  us." 
Here  was  a  double  blessing,  in  first  assuming  our  hu- 
man nature,  and  then  retaining  it.  We  frequently 
read  in  Scripture  of  angels  appearing  to  the  patriarchs 


U 


i 


•liiifiMiiiiMi 


I 


no 


THE  TWO   QKEAT   MYSTERIES   OF    LOVB. 


in  a  human  flgare.  Bat  they  merely  put  on  this  ont- 
ward  form  &a  a  garment,  or  disgoise,  which  they  threw 
oflF  again  as  goon  as  their  message  had  been  delivered 
and  tlieir  commission  discharged.  One  might  almost 
imagine  thai  it  would  have  heeu  an  intolerable  hard- 
ship to  those  pure  spirits,  had  any  of  them,  who  were 
sent  on  such  errands  to  earth,  been  obliged  to  retain, 
for  the  rest  of  their  existence,  that  body  which  they 
had  joined  to  themselves  for  the  occasion. 

In  like  manner,  might  not  our  Saviour  have  ap- 
peared in  the  flesh  to  teach  and  instruct  us,  or  by 
some  act  of  graciousness,  save  us,  without  assuming  it 
so  as  for  ever  to  retain  it  1  But  His  object  would  not 
have  been  thus  attained,  of  dwelling  and  conversing 
among  men,  and  truly  being  as  one  of  us.  It  was  not 
merely  for  the  one  momentary  act  of  redemption  that 
He  put  on  our  nature ;  it  was  to  procure  thereby  for 
us  that  abundance  of  grace  which  on  every  side  flowed 
from  His  sacred  humanity.  The  excellence  of  His  ex- 
ample, the  model  of  His  prayer.  His  conduct  under 
temptation,  His  suflfering  of  hardship  and  distress, 
His  resignation.  His  obedience  and  other  virtues 
would  have  been  lost  to  us,  had  he  not  become  truly 
man,  dwelling  upon  earth.  That  pleading  which  His 
wounds,  still  open,  keep  up  in  our  behalf;  that  light 
and  joy  which  the  presence  of  His  humanity  sheds 
over  heaven ;  that  glory  which  the  exaltation  of  His 
flesh  secures  to  man ;  that  headship  of  Hi^  Church  on 
earth  which  He  retains ;  that  mediatorship  which  He 
holds  between  His  Father  and  us;  these,  au^  many 
other  immense  prerogatives,  we  should  not  have  en- 
joyed, had  He  contented  Himself  with  less  than  the 


H^lTl^iWiHtlWi 


THl!  TWO   ORKAT   MYSTEKIKa  OP   LOVTE.  Ill 


this  ont- 
ey  threw 
delivered 
tt  almost 
ble  hard- 
fvho  were 
to  retain, 
bich  they 

have  ap- 
19,  or  by 
mining  it 
rould  not 
»n  versing 
t  was  not 
)tion  that 
ereby  for 
de  flowed 
rf  His  ex- 
ict  under 

distress, 
r  virtues 
)me  truly 
vhich  His 
!;hat  light 
lity  sheds 
an  of  His 
Church  on 
which  He 
lur*  many 

have  en- 
)  than  the 


alMolute  and  permanent  union  of  His  manhood  with 
His  Godhead. 

But  then,  how  comparatively  short  of  the  object  of 
His  great  design  would  the  execution  have  fallen,  had 
but  one  short  visit  to  earth  comi)nsed  the  whole  of 
his  commerce  with  His  new  brethren  here  below  1 
And  still  more,  what  an  undue  advantage,  so  to  speak, 
would  they  have  enjoyed  over  uSv  whom  accidental 
circumstances  brought  to  live  in  the  same  time,  and 
country,  with  Him.  Were  they  to  possess  the  priv- 
ilege of  touching  His  sacred  body,  and  we  not  be  al- 
lowed to  touch  even  the  hem  of  His  garment  ?  Was 
the  woman  of  Chanaan  to  be  admitted  to  partake  of 
the  fulness  of  His  benefits,  and  we  who  are  the  chil- 
dren of  the  kingdom,  be  denied  what  she  ventured  to 
claim — the  right  of  feeding  on  the  crumbs  from  His 
table  'i  Was  He  to  place  His  hands  upon  the  heads 
of  children,  some  of  whom,  perhaps,  joined  in  the  out- 
cries against  Him,  and  be  to  us  like  Isaac,  who  had  no 
blessing  for  Esau,  when  Jacob  had  anticipated  him  ? 
Such  is  one  motive  assigned  by  the  great  Father  of 
the  Eastern  Church,  St.  Marathas,  for  the  institution 
of  the  Blessed  Eucharist. 

No,  my  brethren,  our  dear  Redeemer  was  too  im- 
partial in  His  love  to  treat  us  bo.  We  who  were  to 
come  eighteen  hundred  years  too  late  to  enjoy  His 
company  in  the  flesh,  had  as  large  and  as  warm  a 
place  in  His  heart,  as  they  who  entertained  Him  in 
their  houses.  It  was  but  natural  for  us  to  expect  from 
Him  some  ingenious  contrivance,  some  institution  of 
almighty  love,  whereby  His  sojourn  upon  earth  should 
be  prolonged  until  the  end  of  time.    Even  in  the  Old 


!>. 


:  ' 


T 


i*iM 


•0mm 


119 


THE  TWO  GREAT  MYSTr.RlMI  OF  LOVB. 


Law,  His  preaenco  by  visible  emblems,  which  gave  as- 
surance and  promised  mercy,  was  made  permanent  in 
His  holy  place.     While  Israel  dwelt  in  the  wilder- 
ness, His  cloud  overshadowed  the  tabernacle;   and 
both  there  and  in  the  Temple,  the  Holy  of  Holies  con- 
tained a  mercy-seat,  whereon  He  sat  between  the 
cherubim,  to  receive  the  supplications  of  priests  and 
people.     And  if  this  was  a  figure  or  symbol  of  Him, 
who  alone  has  wrought  propitiation  for  many,  was  it 
otherwise  than  reasonable  to  expect,  in   that  Iaw 
when  realities  succeeded  to  shadows,  truths  to  figures, 
there  would  be  some  provision  for  a  corresponding 
token  of  God's  presence,  securing,  however,  its  reality 
and  truth  ?    Such  precisely  was  supplied  us  in  the 
Blessed  Eucharist,  in  which  Christ  is  with  us,  our 
trae  Emanuel,  ever  residing  in  ortr  sanctuaries.   There 
we  may  visit  Him  hourly,  and  pour  our  entreaties  be- 
fore His  feet,  assured  of  His  listening  to  us  with  gra- 
ciousuess  and  sweetncis.    There  we  may  grieve  over 
our  sins,  sympathise  with  His  suflferings,  and  protest 
to  Him  onr  love.    And  thus  does  the  Sacrament  of 
the  altar  hourly  appear  what  it  is — the  full  accom- 
plishment of  His  manifestation  in  the  flesh ;  the  firm- 
ly securing  to  all  ages  and  all  places,  of  one  of  the 
greatest  blessings  of  His  Incarnation,  His  "  dwelling 
amongst  us."    It  is,  indeed,  the  completing  of  this  in- 
effable mystery. 

Further,  the  Incarnation  of  Christ  Jesus,  was  the 
preparation  for  Kedemption ;  the  Eucharist  is  its  ap- 
plication. He  became  man  that,  as  man,  He  might 
suffer  and  die,  and  so  procure  for  us  all  grace,  in- 
clusive of  eternal  salvation.    He  became  our  food, 


'! 


THK  TWO   OKEAT   MYSTERIICS   OF   LOVI. 


118 


!h  gave  as* 
■luaDent  iu 
be  wildor- 
acle ;  aud 
tlolies  c<m- 
tween  the 
priests  and 
>1  of  Him, 
iny,  was  it 
that  I«aw 
to  figures, 
[■espondiag 
,  its  reality 
as  in  the 
th  U8,  our 
ies.  There 
treaties  be- 
j  with  gra- 
;rieve  over 
,nd  protest 
craiuent  of 
full  accom- 
I ;  the  firm* 
one  of  the 
"  dwelling 
of  thb  ia> 

IS,  was  the 
\i  is  its  ap- 
,  He  might 
L  grace,  in- 
)  our  food, 


that  80  the  remembrance  of  His  passion  might  be 
ever  kept  before  us ;  that  His  precious  blood  might 
be  applied  to  our  souls,  and  that  wo  might  be  filled 
with  all  grace,  by  contact  with  its  very  source  antl 
author. 

But,  finally,  the  great  and  true  analogy  between 
those  two  mysteries,  consists  in  the  communication 
made  in  both  of  God  to  man.  The  love  which  in- 
spired the  Eternal  Word  to  take  upon  Him  our  hu- 
roan  nature,  was  in  the  form  of  an  ardent  desire  to 
devote  Himself  to  man,  to  sacrifice  Himself  for  him. 
He  became  one  of  us,  so  to  acquire  an  interest  in  all 
that  concerns  us.  He  gave  to  us,  so  far  as  he  could, 
participation  in  that  divine  nature,  which  He  as- 
sociated to  our  humanity.  He  gave  us  heirship  with 
Himself  in  Heaven.  And,  after  this.  He  gave  up  to 
man,  and  for  man,  all  that  He  had  acquired,  if  it 
could  be  considered  an  acquisition — His  time,  His 
mind.  His  strength,  His  happiness,  His  blood.  His 
life. 

But  then  all  these  communications  and  gifts  were 
made  to  our  race  in  general ;  and  only  through  their 
connection  with  it,  to  the  individual  man.  Whatever 
He  thus  bestowed,  was  bestowed  upon  mankind. 
Not,  however,  there  would  His  love  rest;  but  it 
sought  to  communicate  all  this  and  more,  individually 
and  pereonally,  to  each  of  us ;  and  this  He  accom- 
plished in  the  divine  Eucharist.  But  strange  as  at 
first  sight  it  may  appear,  there  was  a  corresponding 
ardor  of  desire  on  the  part  of  man  for  such  a  unii>n, 
tnfbeable  among  the  ruined  traditions  of  heathen 
superstitions.  For,  in  many  couutries  of  the  old  and 
8 


I  ■ 


T 


lU 


TMK  TWO   ORKAT   MY8TKIM1C8   OF   LOVK. 


new  world,  d'nl  the  i<1ea  prevnll,  tliot  hy  pfirtnlclng  of 
victims  otTd'H'tl  to  the  Deity,  nmn  did  become  no- 
tunliy  united  and  incorporated  with  Him  ;  and  many 
were  the  vain  follies  devised,  wherwhy  wiser  and 
holior  men  were  HuppoHfd  to  arrive  at  a  close,  and 
nio8t  intimate,  union  with  God.  Wherever  nature, 
even  in  it«  degradation,  has  preserved  a  craving  after 
any  thing  good  and  holy,  we  need  not  be  8urj)rised  if 
it  be  gratified. 

And  how,  in  this  mystery  of  love,  it  is  gratified, . 
they  who  love  their  Saviour  alone  can  tell.     When, 
with  a  conscience  cleaured  by  penance  of  the  leHser 
tranRf^/essions  to  which  all  are  subject,  and  a  heart  at 
peace  with  itself,  free  from  rancor,  from  anxiety,  from 
disturbing  fear,  they  approach  their  Saviour's  feast, 
they  feel  their  hearts  so  divided  between  eagerness 
and  humility,  love  and  a  sense  of  unworthiness,  as  to 
tremble,  they  scarc'y  know  if  from  hesitation  or  hope. 
But  when  they  have  drawn  nigh  unto  the  altar,  and 
receiveil  the  pledge  o'  their  salvation,  he  seems  to 
come  into  their  souls  as  rain  upon  the  fleece,  in  calm 
and  sweet  serenity.    Their  hearts  are  too  full  for  ana- 
lyeing  their  feelings ;  but  there  is  a  sense  of  silent 
unalterable    happiness— an  absorbing    overthi-ow  of 
tranquil  joy,  which  disdains  the  feeble  expression  of 
the  tongue.    The  presence  of  their  God  is  felt  with 
sufficient  awe  to  depress  the  soul  into  humble  adorar 
tion — the  presence  of  our  loving  Redeemer  is  ex- 
perienced with  an  intensity  of  aflfection,  that  barns  in 
the  heart,  rather  than  breaks  forth  into  a  flame.    But 
this  deep  paroxysm  of  heavenly  feeling,  this  foretitote 
of  future  bliss,  cannot  last  long,  but  that  the  out- 


■^SSSOm 


MMHMHlMi 


TlIK   TWO   OKKAT  MYH'n':RI>«   OV   LOVK. 


115 


rtiiklng  of 
i.'oom«  nc- 
ftiid  many 
iv'wer  ftiui 
clo8(^,  nnd 
er  natuio, 
A'ing  ftftei* 
urprised  if 

\  gfTfttifled, , 
1.     When, 
the  leHser 
a  heart  at 
liet.y,  from 
Dur's  feast, 
engernesii 
iness,  aa  to 
sa  or  hope. 
I  altar,  and 
e  seem*  to 
)ce,  in  calm 
ull  for  ana- 
le  of  silent 
erthrow  of 
pression  of 
is  felt  with 
nble  adora- 
imer  is  ex- 
at  barns  in 
3ame.     Bat 
lis  foretitste 
at  the  out- 


burst of  contending  affections  must  take  place.  It  is 
as  though  so  many  different  iumatt>s  of  the  heart,  the 
children  of  the  house,  scarce  restrained  for  a  time 
from  the  presence  of  a  brother  they  revere  and  love, 
at  length  br(»ke  open  the  door  into  his  presence,  and 
poured  forth  their  tumultuous  emotions  upon  him. 
There  hope  seems  to  seize  upon  his  strengthening 
hand,  and  faith  to  gn/e  upon  his  inspiring  eye,  and 
love  to  bury  itn  face  in  his  bosom,  and  gratitude  to 
crown  his  head  with  garlands,  and  humble  sorrow 
to  sit  down  at  his  feet  and  weep.  And  amidst  this 
universal  homage  and  joy,  of  every  affection  and 
every  power,  the  blessed  Jesus  sits  enthroned,  sole 
master  of  the  heart  and  of  the  soul,  commanding  peace 
and  imparting  gladness,  filling  with  sweetness,  as 
with  a  heavenly  fragrance,  tho  entire  being.  True, 
the  vision  soon  dies  away,  and  leaves  us  to  the 
drearier  duties  *f  the  day,  its  burthen  and  its  heat ; 
but  the  dew  of  the  morning  will  lie  upon  that  Christ- 
ian's soul,  long  after  the  bright  cloud  that  dropt  it 
hath  faded  away. 

If,  my  brethren,  there  were  any  one  point  whereon 
I  could  concentrate  the  zeal  of  every  order  of  men 
who  have  our  dear  country's  true  interest  at  heart ;  if, 
by  narrowing  the  sphere  of  our  exertions,  I  could 
hope  to  increase  their  intensity,  yet  so  as  to  neglect 
no  claim,  I  own  that  I  would  turn  the  thoughts  and 
heai-ts  of  all  to  the  restoration  of  the  belief,  the 
knowledge,  the  worehip  of  the  Blessed  Eucharist 
amongst  us.  I  would  beg  that  comparatively  small 
stress  should  be  laid  upon  other  matters  contested 
between  us  and  our  fellow-subjects ;  but  that  every 


T 


riWMM 


no 


TUK  TWO   OKKAT   MTHTRUIKM   Ok'   I.OVC 


MMTgy  ol  olvrpry  niid  Inity  whould  he  devoted  to  t1i6 
vindication  nu«l  iidorniiou  of  thin  incompHraoitj  Snciiv- 
niifut.  Tlinu)  )iuiu1i>m1  yi«ni>4  of  p  I'Ho  it'j»*ction  of 
its  true  doctiiim  in  idolatroun ;  three  c«m miwi  of  pri« 
VAtion  of  the  )>lcHMitigi  wliich  it  alone  can  hentow 
upon  n>an,  ho  nuioli  written  nnd  sipokt-n  ftgiunut  tlia 
nol>leit  iniititution  of  Divine  love, — the«e  thingi  are  a 
fearful  weight  u)K)n  a  natiou'ii  aoul,  not  to  be  expiated 
but  by  many  tears  and  nuicli  loving  n-paration  iiy 
tho«e  that  lielieve.  Let  tlio  laity  be  ready  to  concur 
in  every  measure  that  nmy  be  proposed  for  man's 
public  homage,  a  bolder  worship,  and  a  more  fre- 
quent use  of  it  in  our  country.  Let  us,  who  havo 
dedicated  ouimdves  to  its  ministry,  whose  standing- 
place  is  by  God's  altar,  consider  ourselves  the  apostles 
of  this  mystery  of  love.  Let  us  be  willing  to  suffer 
every  extremity  to  promote  its  honor  and  glory,  and 
diffuse  its  benefits  among  men.  Happy  they,  who 
having  collected  thousands  to  hen.r  them,  shall  take 
care  not  to  let  them  depart  contented  with  their 
words,  but  shall  send  them  home  nourished  with  this 
heavenly  bread,  divinely  multiplied  so  as  to  suffice 
for  all,  pop  ;  .'ing  every  savor  of  delight,  medicine, 
food,  sweetoitSi ,  nrd  strength  w  urce  of  our  hope,  fuel 
of  our  lov  .,  t  i '  unt^  of  our  salvation,  and  pledge  of  a 
blessed  eternity. 


ted  to  tht 

•jection  of 
liet  of  pri« 
MX  bestow 
Pfniimt  the 
lings  arti  a 
u  expiated 
irntion  hy 
•  to  concur 
fur  mnn*s 

more  fro- 
who  havo 

standing- 
be  ap()Htl«8 
g  to  suffer 
glory,  and 
they,  who 
shall  take 
with  their 
1  with  this 
I  to  HufAce 

medk'ine, 

hope,  fuel 
)ledge  of  a 


SEKMON    VI. 
Sb4bor  iiita  (fiMvtU 

Uatt.  itU,  1,  f. 

"And  ftfUrtli  ilkyt  JMua  UkMh  unto  Him  Pntar  and  Jtmet  and  John 
hia  brothvr,  antl  l>rtngeth  ti>niu  up  Into  a  Ugh  mountain  apart ;  and  Uo  waa 
Innallfnrad  before  them." 

Last  Sunday  we  contemplated  our  beloved  Savionr 
on  the  mountain  of  temptation ;  we  are  culled  this  day 
to  consider  Him  on  the  mountain  of  His  glory.  lie 
was  ttien  under  trial,  lonely  and  unfriended,  without  a 
disciple  to  witness  His  stniggles — without  an  admirer 
to  sympathize  in  His  sun'erings ;  He  is  now  in  triumph, 
surrounded  and  supported  by  faithful  f(»l  lowers,  and 
by  the  venerable  representatives  of  the  older  saints, 
who  feel  a  deep  and  affectionate  interest  in  the  maj* 
esty  and  splendor  which,  tor  a  time,  invest  Him.  In 
Hit  life  of  sorrow  this  is  a  solitary  event,  a  suspension, 
for  a  few  moments,  of  that  couitie  which  He  had  chosen 
—a  course  of  toil  and  travail,  of  persecution  and  afflic- 
tion. Can  we,  then,  be  surprised  that  His  disciples, 
amazed  at  the  unusual  spectacle,  and  overpowered  by 
the  newness  of  its  delights,  should  have  longed  that  it 
might  become  perpetual  ?  Their  divine  Master  is  no 
more  such  as  they  have  known  Him  till  now ;  no  more 
walking  in  meekness  among  men,  as  though  He  were 
but  one  of  themselves:  He  is  raised  upiu  majesty,  His 


1 


T 


118 


TlIABOtt   AND   OLIVKT. 


face  19  blight  as  the  sun,  His  raiment  as  white  and 
glittering  as  nnow ;  Moses,  the  great  legislator  of  their 
-nation,  hath  broken  from  the  confinement  of  death ; 
Elias,  the  mightiest  of  the  prophets,  hath  abandoned 
the  seat  of  his  temporary  rest,  to  do  Him  homage,  and 
bear  Him  their  testimony.     He  is  no  longer  harassed 
by  the  malicious  and  teazing  questions  of  Phaiisees 
and  scribes,  nor  blasphemed  by  the  scoffs  and  jeers  of 
an  unbeliving  multitude ;  but  Heaven  speaks  its  appro- 
bation of  their  faith,  and  utters  a  powerful  witnessing 
to  His  divine  authority.    Yes,  the  beauty  and  majesty 
of  the  better  world  appeared  for  a  moment  to  have 
descended  upon  this  lower  state,  and  Heaven  seemed, 
through  that  mountain's  top,  to  have  imparted  unto 
earth  the  thrilling  kiss  of  reconciliation  and  love. 

Who,  then,  shall  wonder  if  Peter,  ever  ardent  and 
uncalculating  in  his  affection,  should  have  exclaimed, 
"  Lord,  it  is  good  for  us  to  be  here  I"    Nor  was  there 
in  this  exclamation  aught  ot  selfish  desire,  or  a  care  of 
his  own  enjoyment ;  inasmuch  as  forthwith  he  added, 
"  If  thou  wilt,  let  us  make  here  three  tabernacles,  one 
for  thee,  and  one  for  Moses,  and  one  for  Elias."    For 
himself  and  his  two  companions,  whose  hearts  m  his 
own  he  could  comprehend,  he  asks  not  that  provision 
should  be  made.    He  and  they  would  gladly  brave 
the  rage  of  mountain  storms,  and  the  summer's  scorch- 
ing  ray,  unsheltered  and  unheeded,  so  that  they  might 
witness  the  glory  of  their  Master  and  the  happy  com- 
panionship  in  which  He  was  engaged. 

But,  alas,  "  he  knew  not  what  he  said."  He  .knew 
not  th'at  he  and  his  two  fellow-apoatles  were  reserved 
to  Tvitness,  upon  another  mount,  a  spectacle  sorrow- 


-  -ffiggij.. 


1 


«fi^^1pn.4p*iMiwiiiiiii  an 


THABOK   AND   OUVET. 


119 


rhite  and 
r  of  their 
)f  death ; 
3andoned 
nage,  and 
harassed 
Phaiisees 
d  jeers  of 
its  appro 
vitneasing 
d  majesty 
b  to  have 
a  seemed, 
irted  nnto 
love. 

rdent  and 
axclaimed, 
was  there 
r  a  care  of 
he  added, 
nacles,  one 
lias."    For 
arts  in  his 
,  provision 
idly  brave 
er's  scorch'* 
they  might 
lappy  corn- 
He  .knew 
re  reserved 
de  sorrow- 


mm 


fully  contrasting  with  what  they  now  saw ;  on  Thabor 
he  was  mercifully  kept  in  ignorance  of  the  desolation 
of  Olivet ;  the  splendor  of  the  one  dazzled  him  into 
forgetfulness  of  what  had  been  foretold  of  the  other's 
anguish ;  and  the  cruel  contrast  between  glory  and 
agony,  adoption  and  abandonment  by  God,  which  the 
two  were  intended  to  present  them,  were  withheld 
from  their  loving  souls.  But  not  so  be  it  with  us,  to 
whom  our  Saviour's  life  in  its  entireness  has  been  pro- 
posed for  an  example  and  a  lesson,  and  who  may  well 
temper  the  variety  of  emotions  it  has  a  power  .3  ex- 
cite, by  the  comparison  of  its  divei-BP  parts.  Andj 
therefore,  of  the  many  and  moving  instructions,  which 
this  day's  Gospel  may  well  suggest,  I  will  fain  choose 
the  one  which  seems  to  me  most  touching,  that  of  dis- 
coursing on  the  mountain  of  His  glorious  transfigurfv- 
tion,  "concerning  His  decease  which  He  should  ac- 
complish at  Jerusalem."  Thus  it  is,  that  in  the  wt>rd8 
of  the  Psalmist,  "  Thabor  and  Hermon"  are  brought 
together  to  "  rejoice  in  His  name"  (Ps.  Ixxxviii.  18), 
that  Hermon  of  the  New  Law,  on  which  the  dew  of 
life,  our  dear  Redeemer's  blood,  firet  trickled  down, 
•and  thence  descended  over  the  hills  of  Sion.  (Pa. 
cxxxiii.  8.) 

For  whosoever  shall  diligently  and  lovingly  con- 
sider the  scenes  of  these  two  mountains  of  Thabor  and 
of  Olivet — the  transfiguration  unto  glory,  and  the 
transfiguration  unto  abasement  which  occurred  in  each 
— will  not  fail  to  be  struck  by  the  notable  resem- 
bNnces  and  the  nicely  balanced  differences  which  they 
exhibit ;  as  if  intended  by  the  Spirit  of  God  for  the 
working  out  of  some  great  and  mingled  instruction. 


T 


«.i— wiWiilfcMiafc-ii"     II     "■■ 


I  i.rM-v  liii'i  rill'  n  I  *'' 


■mMpm— 


190 


THABOR  AKD  OLIVET. 


If' 


And  it  is  in  the  joint  contemplation  of  the  two,  that 
my  humble  endeavors  shall  strive  to  engage  you  this 
day :  showipg  you,  through  God's  grace,  how  upon  the 
former  Jesus  publicly  received  the  glorious  title,  which 
He  of  right  possessed,  of  the  true  and  "  well-beloved 
Son  of  God,"  and  on  the  latter  mode  good  His  claim 
to  that  other,  more  endearing,  title  "  of  the  Son  of 

Man." 

Twice,  then,  did  our  blessed  Redeemer  summon 
Peter,  James,  and  John,  to  be  the  witnesses  of  a  great 
change  in  His  outward  appearance  and  in  His  inner- 
most soul:  once  to  see  Him  exalted  into  a  glory  more 
than  human ;  another  time  to  see  Him  sunk  into  the 
deepest   abyss   of  wretchedness  whereof   humanity 
should  seem  capable.    On  the  first  occasion,  when 
lifted  so  high,  earthly  attendants  are  sent  to  remind 
Him  of  His  future  sorrows,  and  check,  in  a  manner, 
the  torrent  of  delight  which  b  poured  into  His  soul; 
»  on  the  other,  a  heavenly  messenger  comes  down  to 
temper  the  bitterness  of  His  cup  of  sorrows  with  con- 
solation, and  nerve  Him  to  His  trials  and  griefs  by  the 
prospect  of  their  glorious  end.    On  Thabor,  as  St. 
Luke  has  recorded,  "Peter,  and  they  that  were  with  • 
him,  were  heavy  with  sleep;  and  waking,  saw  His 
gloiy,  and  the  two  men  that  stood  with  Him."  (Luke, 
ix.  82.)    On  Olivet  the  same  drowsiness  overtook 
them,  and  drowned  their  senses,  till  they  awoke  only 
to  see  their  Master  in  the  hands  of  His  cruel  foes.    la 
His  first  transfiguration,  the  voice  of  the  Father  wag 
heard  proclaiming  Him  His  well-beloved  Son  ;  in  the 
second,  He  entreated  "with  a  strong  cry  and  tears  .to 
Him  that  was  able  to  save  Him  from  death"  (Heb. 


i0im 


THABOR  AND   OLIVET. 


)  two,  tbat 
e  you  this 
V  upon  the 
title,  which 
ell-beloved 
His  claim 
the  Sou  of 

T  summon 
i  of  a  great 

His  inner- 
glory  more 
ik  into  the 
humanity 
ision,  when 

to  remind 

a  manner, 
>  His  soul; 
»s  down  to 
7B  with  con- 
:riefB  by  the 
ibor,  as  St. 
i  were  with  • 
ig,  saw  His 
im."  (Luke, 
83  overtook 
awoke  only 
lel  foes.    In 

Father  was 
Son ;  in  the 
md  tears  .to 
eath"  (Heb. 


V.  7),  and  seemed  to  be  rejected.  In  that  He  was 
raised  above  the  earth.  His  garments  were  changed 
intv  a  raiment  of  glory ;  in  this  He  was  stretched 
upon  the  ground,  and  those  garments  were  steeped  in 
His  own  blood  1 

Need  I,  my  brethren,  ask  you,  wherefore  these  con- 
trasting spectacles  were  presented  to  the  three  fa- 
vored apostles,  and,  through  their  witnessing,  to  us  ? 
For,  who  can  doubt  that  the  two  natures  in  our  Lord's 
sacred  person  were  thus  intended  to  be  exhibited,  each 
on  its  proper  stage.  His  divinity  raisad  aloft  to  re- 
ceive the  homage  of  the  most  exalted  saints,  and  be 
the  object  of  a  well-assured  faith.  His  humanity 
abased  to  all  that  it,  and  we,  can  suffer,  as  to  our 
proper  and  common  sphere.  And  by  this  two-fold 
change  which  He  undergoes,  we  are  led  into  a  suita- 
ble, but  yet  inverted,  variation  of  feeling :  in  His  ex- 
altation, our  pride  should  be  humbled  into  iowly  do- 
cility ;  and  through  His  humiliation  we  should  be 
cheered  into  a  patient  and  resigned  endurance. 

The  mountain  of  Thabor  is,  without  doubt,  the  rep- 
resentation, united  in  a  lively  scene^  of  all  the  evidence 
which  God's  holy  word,  in  sundry  places,  hath  given 
of  our  blessed  Redeemer's  divine  authority,  and  divine 
nature.  The  written'word  is  but  a  dead  letter,  liable 
to  misapprehension,  possessing  no  vital  power  to  vary 
its  evidences  according  to  our  wants,  no  voice  to  shape 
a  fitting  answer  to  our  specific  inquiries.  There  is, 
moreover,  a  charm  in  the  sound  of  man's  tongue; 
there  is  a  spell  in  the  enthusiastio  flash  of  his  eye, 
when  earnestly  striving  to  convince ;  there  is  a  power 
to  win  in  the  solemn  interest  which  he  exhibits,  when 


mmmtimfm 


.Jta 


122 


TIIABOR    AND   QLIVKT. 


uttering  the  secrets  of  Lis  niind.  And  who  shall 
doubt  but  that  when  the  prophets  spoke  of  old,  tho 
inspiration  which  beamed  upon  their  countenances,  «i8 
well  as  enlightened  their  minds,  the  spirit  which 
thrilled  through  their  frames,  as  it  filled  their  hearts, 
the  hand  of  the  Lord  which  seemed  to  play  a  sweet 
music  through  the  very  gesture  of  their  bodies,  as 
truly  as  it  came  upon  their  souls,  did  give  to  their 
sublime  words  an  energy  and  a  feeling,  a  life,  and  a 
wonder-working  might,  which,  written,  they  but  feebly 
retained  ? 

Who  hath  not  often  longed,  with  the  eloquent 
ChryfiOstom,  that  he  could  have  beheld  the  apostle 
Paul  addressing  his  defence  to  Festus,  or  preaching 
before  the  wise  men  of  Athens?  Who  hath  not 
wished  that  his  happiness  it  had  been,  to  witness  the 
divine  power  of  our  Lord's  appeals,  when  crushing 
under  His  indignant  eloquence  the  pride  of  the  Phari- 
sees, or  when  mildly  unfolding  to  His  apostles,  in  their 
charming  simplicity,  the  moral  doctrines  of  His  law  1 
Nay,  so  natural  does  this  superiority  of  the  living  tes- 
timony to  the  written  appeal*,  even  where  no  propor- 
tion  exists  between  the  authors  of  the  two,  that  the 
rich  glutton  in  hell,  pondering  on  the  experience  of 
his  own  impenitence,  hesitates  not  to  say,  that  his 
hardened  brethren  will  be  sooner  brought  to  faith  and 
repentance  through  the  preaching  of  the  ulcerous  and 
ragged  Lazarus,  returning  from  the  dead,  than  through 
the  reading  of  Moses  and  the  prophets.  (Luke,  xvi. 
28.)  How  much  surer  then  would  he  have  felt  of  the 
desired  conviction,  could  he  have  carried  his  presump- 
tion to  such  a  pitch,  as  to  hope,  that  Moses  and  the 


^ 


TIIABOn    AND   OLIVKT. 


123 


fho  shnll 
F  old,  tho 
nances,  iw 
•it  which 
ir  hearts, 
y  a  sweet 
)odie8,  as 
I  to  their 
ife,  and  a 
but  feebly 

eloquent 
le  apostle 
preaching 

hath  not 
ituess  the 

crushing 
the  Phari- 
}s,  in  their 

His  law  ? 
living  tes- 
10  propor- 
>,  that  the 
erience  of 
,  that  his 
3  faith  and 
serous  and. 
m  through 
Luke,  xvi. 
felt  of  the 
3  presump- 
8  and  the 


prophets  themselves,  might  be  allowed  to  break  their 
cerements,  and  testify  in  person  to  his  obdurate  gen- 
eration ? 

And  precisely  such  is  the  evidence  here  given  of 
our  Saviour's  dignity,  authority,  and  character.  When 
addressing  the  Jews,  He  bad  appealed  to  these  very 
witnesses  as  speaking  through  the  ©igan  of  the  writ- 
ten word.  But,  alas !  they  had  ever  read  them  with  a 
crooked  mind,  forestalled  by  preconceits  concerning 
the  temporal  glories  of  their  Messiaa,  and  the  worldly 
conquests  which  He  should  adhieve.  They  misunder- 
stood their  evidence,  and  remained  in  unbelief. 

But  to  the  chosen  few,  it  was  given  to  know  the 
mysteries  of  God's  kingdom  in  the  full  and  clear 
light  of  living  evidence,  and  tohearthera  speak  whom 
othei-s  had  only  read=  For  here  their  most  extrava- 
gant desires  were  more  than  fulfilled  ;  their  most  un- 
reasonable hope  of  proof  must  have  bc>en  incredibly 
surpassed.  Moses,  whose  face  had  shone  so  brightly 
as  to  terrify  his  countrymen,  now  standing  ovei-shone 
and  eclipsed,  as  the  lamp  before  the  mid-day  sun,  by 
the  presence  of  their  divine  Master,  whose  counten- 
ance truly  rivalled  the  source  of  earthly  light  I  Elias, 
who  had  ridden,  of  all  men  alone,  upon  the  fiery 
chariot  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  and  whose  cloak  impart- 
ed to  him  that  inherited  it,  prophecy  and  miracles, 
now  receiving  a  light  and  splendor  fron  he  dazzling 
brightness  of  His  garment !  These  two,  the  greatest 
men,  without  exception,  whom  the  arm  of  God  had 
ever  strengthened  for  the  manifestation  of  His  Al- 
mighty power,  now  as  humble  attendants,  ministers, 
and  servants  honored  and  privileged  by  standing  at 


f 


124 


TMABOB  A5D  OLIVET. 


His  side,  must  Imve  produced  a  briefer,  deeper,  and 
more  indelible  conviction  of  His  superiority,  tlmn  the 
painful  and  repeated  perusal  of  whatever  prophecy 
had  written.  They  seem  to  say  that  the  law  and  the  tes- 
timony  are  now  sealed  up,  and  all  the  mighty  things 
accomplished,  which  they  had  foretold  and  foresliown. 
They  stand  as  shadowy  forms  beside  the  reality  m 
Christ's  presence,  as  faint,  indistinct,  and  dusky  images, 
receiving  Jight,  and  reflecting  glory,  from  the  bright- 

ness  of  His  truth. 

But  in  the  choice  of  witnesses  thus  called  in  the  e 
were  personal  considerations  which  greatly  would  add 
to  the  interest  of  their  testimony.     Both  of  them  had 
been  purified  before  God  by  a  fast  protracted  through 
fortv  days,  even  like  our  blessed  Saviour's,  not  long 
before.    Both  had  been  admitted  to  a  closer  view  ot 
the  Divine  countenance  than  any  other  of  the  hunian 
race     In  this  manner  did  they  approach  nearer  to  His 
perfection,  and  were  far  livelier  types  of  his  surpassing 
excellence,  than  any  others  among  the  Fathers  of  the 
Old  Law.    And  that  the  figure  might  aflbrd  still  tulJer 
measure  of  comfort  to  the  disciples  who  witnessed  it 
they  had  in  their  generation,  like  Jesus,  been  lovers  ot 
their  people,  zealous  for  their  fidelity  to  God,  and  un- 
wearied in  doing  good.  . 
Such  are  the  great  and  holy  men  who  return  to  earth 
to  confer  with  their  Master  and  Saviour,  as  though 
deputed,  by  it  and  its  inhabitants,  to  hold  solemn 
council  with  Him,  touching  their  dearest  interests. 
And  ah !  how  truly  does  their  discourse  prove  whose 
representatives  they  are;   and  what  little  else  than 
pain  any  embassy  from  our  fallen  kind  could  bear 


I 


TIIABOB   AND   OLIVET. 


125 


Rper,  and 
tlmn  the 
prophecy 
id  the  tes- 
ty things 
oreshown. 
reality  ia 
cy  images, 
be  bright- 

1  in,  there 
Bvould  add 

them  had 
id  through 
I,  not  long 
ler  view  of 
the  human 
arer  to  His 

surpassing 
liers  of  the 
1  still  fuller 
witnessed  it, 
en  lovers  of 
od,  and  un- 

iirn  to  earth 
,  as  though 
lold  solemn 
st  interests, 
prove  whose 
[e  else  than 
could  bear 


Him  !  No  glad  tidings  do  they  bring  of  His  chosen 
])eofle'8  being  repentant,  and  seeking  reconciliation; 
no  promise  or  hope  of  His  reception  among  them  as 
their  King  and  Redeemer.  No;  they  too  had  been 
liberator  of  their  people,  and  were  familiar  with  its 
rewaid :  it  is  concerning  his  decease  at  Jerusalem,  from 
the  hands  of  His  people,  that  they  come  to  treat! 
Oh  !  who  can  imagine  the  shame  and  sorrow  that  hang 
on  their  countenances,  struggling  with  their  kindling 
gratitude,  admiration,  and  love,  which  a  topic  so  dis- 
graceful to  their  nation,  yet  so  necessary  to  man,  must 
have  excited  in  their  bosoms  I  But  think,  on  the 
other  hand,  what  a  new  idea  of  the  grandeur  of  Christ's 
redemption  must  have  flashed  upon  the  wondering 
apostles'  thoughts,  on  finding  that  subject,  which  was 
their  scandal  and  distress,  chosen  as  the  meetest  theme 
of  conference,  at  this  unusual  and  magnificent  meeting. 
How  must  the  ignominy  of  the  cross  have,  for  a  mo- 
ment at  least,  been  forgotten,  on  hearing  it  the  subject 
of  praise  and  thanksgiving,  chosen  by  such  men,  at  the 
very  instant  that  Heaven  itself  seemed  opened  visibly 
before  them. 

But  then,  let  me  ask,  what  was  all  this  witnessing, 
compared  with  that  which  the  eternal  gates  burst 
open  to  communicate?  What  was  the  testimony  of 
the  past  compared  with  that  of  this  very  moment ; 
what  were  the  asseverations  of  men,  beside  the  proc- 
lamation of  the  Most  Highest :  "  This  is  my  beloved 
Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased,  hear  ye  Him"  ?  To 
the  two  earthly  witnesses  that  stood  by,  what  a  mar- 
vellous contrast  with  other  scenes  must  this  simple 
utterance  have  suggested!     Moses  had  stood  upon 


■  ■hwii 


126 


TIIABOR   AND   OUVKT. 


Sinai,  when  the  law  of  fejir  ww»  delivered  to  the  peo- 
ple.    It  came  forth  from  that  mountain,  as  an  infuiit 
giant,  swathed  like  the  ocean  in  a  stormy  clond  (Job, 
xxxviii.  9),  its  first  accents  were  in  the  thunder,  the 
first  glance  of  its  eye,  was  in  the  fliwhing  of  the  winged 
lightnings.    The  earth  shook  beneath  its  tread,  and 
the  people  hid  themselves  in  terror  before  its  mani- 
festation.    And  yet,  as  8t  Paul  assures  us,  only  by  the 
ministration  of  angels  was   this  law  of  fear  given. 
(Gal.  iii.  19.)    Elias,  too,  had  stood  on  Horeb,  when 
the  Ix>rd  passed  through  the  cavern ;  and  though  He 
came  to  comfort  him  in  the  whispering  of  a  gentle 
breeze,  a  mighty  wind,  an  earthquake,  and  a  raging 
fire  announced  His  approach.     (8  Reg.  xix.) 

How  characteristically  are  all  things  here  changed, 
on  this  mountain  of  the  New  Law,  whereon  its  evi- 
dences are  uttered  by  the  voice  of  God  Himself.  A 
bright  cloud  overshadowed  them ;  to  the  husbandrjan 
on  the  plain  below,  nothing  new  or  strange  appeare 
over  the  mountain's  top;  he  notices  perhaps  but  a 
brighter  wreath  upon  its  brow ;  and  fi-om  this  glad  and 
glorious,  though  mysterious  canopy,  issue  the  com- 
forting and  assuring  words  which  proclaim  Jesus  to  be 
God's  only  Son,  and  settle  our  faith  and  .eclde  its 
objects,  by  reference  to  His  infallible  word.  Here 
then  is  Jesus  constituted  our  great  and  everlasting 
Law-giver,  the  author  and  finisher  of  our  faith,  our 
model  and  our  guide  unto  life  eternal. 

This  union  of  evidence,  this  homage  of  earth  through 
its  holiest  of  sainte,  this  proclamation  of  Heaven 
through  its  Lord  and  God,  forms,  in  sooth,  the  solemn 
mystery  which  Chiist's  glorious  transfiguration  was 


LU». 


THABOR    AND   OUVKT. 


127 


0  the  poo 
an  infntit 
oml  (Job, 
uiuler,  the 
he  winged 
tread,  and 
its  mani- 
nly  by  th« 
ear  given. 
)reb,  when 
though  He 
»f  a  gentle 
i  a  raging 

) 

B  changed, 

on  its  evi- 

imself.    A 

iisbandrjan 

ge  appears 

laps  but  a 

tis  glad  and 

6  the  com- 

Jesas  to  be 

ieclde  its 

ord.     Here 

everlasting 

'  faith,  our 

rth  through 
of  Heavea 
,  the  solemn 
iration  was 


inteiuled  to  set  ftnth.  To  iw,  it  is  a  blessed  and  joy- 
ful Hppctade,  to  contemplate)  Him,  for  once,  such  as 
to  our  affection  it  aeemeth  that  He  ever  should  have 
been,  treated  so  a«  became  His  divine  nature,  by  God 
and  by  men,  elevated  above  the  reach  of  enemies  and 
transgres80i*8,  shrouded  from  the  gaze  of  such  as  love 
Him  not,  surrounded  only  by  adoring  disciples,  es- 
corted by  His  blessed  saints,  enshrined  in  His  own 
brightness,  majesty,  and  loveliness,  and  crowned  by 
His  Father,  with  the  unfading  eternal  glory  which 
He  possessed  in  Him  from  the  beginning.  8uch  is 
Jesus,  the  Son  of  God,  exhibited  to  us  in  His  transfig- 
uration upon  Mount  Thabor,  and  such  will  every 
soul  that  loveth  Him,  think  that  He  ever  should  be 
seen. 

But  now  turn  we  to  another  mountain,  and  see  Him 
whom  we  thus  love,  alas !  how  transformed,  in  truth  ! 
The  brightness  and  glow  of  the  overshadowing  cloud 
are  exchanged  for  the  bleak  and  dreary  darkness  of 
night,  within  an  olive  garden's  gloomy  shades.  The 
same  three  disciples  are  near,  but  buried  in  a  sluggish 
weary  sleep,  from  which  no  warning  of  danger,  no 
expostulation  of  love  can  rouse  them  to  consciousness. 
Instead  of  being  elevated  above  the  earth,  surrounded 
by  a  halo  of  glory,  Jesus  is  sunk  upon  the  ground, 
unable  to  support  His  own  weight ;  His  face,  then  so 
splendid,  is  now  pale,  haggard,  and  bedewed  with 
tears ;  and  His  garments  hang  upon  Him  clammy  and 
damp,  through  the  blood  that  steals  out  at  every  pore. 
The  brightness  of  Heaven  is  fled  from  His  soul ;  the 
calm  prospect  of  future  sufl'ering  is  exchanged  for  the 
torture  and  anguish  of  present  woe ;  and  an  angel,  one 


128 


TIIADOR   AND   OUVBT. 


•oUary  oouifortor  of  the  count  lew  host  whoso  joy 
Hp  in,  coin«-8  to  support  and  encouiugfj  Ilim  lu  the 
work  of  lliH  own  U)ve  1 

Can  H«  b«  the  »Hiue  whom  w»!  have  uohitely  seen  on 
ThHl»or  I     Is  this  the  well-he h)vi'a  8on  of  (ioil,  whom 
we  are  comnmnch^d  to  hem-  i    Has  thine  been  any  dim- 
inution of  love  in  His  heavenly  Father,  or  any  change 
in  His  own  high  dignity  here  below,  that  He  should 
now  ain»ear  so  sadly  altered  from  what  erst  Ho  wan? 
Most  assuredly  not;  but  He  is  now  making  good  an- 
other  title,  a  title  to  our  love,  as  before  to  our  tattb; 
He  is  proving  Himself  to  be,  even  more  than  we  aro, 
the  Son  of  Man.    For  it  is  not  as  engaged  in  the  pain- 
ful work  of  our  redemption  that  1  wish  here  to  con- 
sider  Him,  but  as  merely  incorporating  Himself  the 
m^M  completely  amongst  us,  by  the  participation  ot 

our  sorrows. 

When  men  of  powerful  minds  have  been  thrown, 
by  accident  or  chance,  into  the  society  of  hostile  or 
barbarous  tribes,  they  have  easily  discovered,  that^the 
surest  way  to  win  their  confidence,  and  secure  their 
friendship,  is  to  show  no  abhorrence  of  their  most  re- 
pulsive  usages,  but  to  adopt  whatever  practices  are 
among  thera  reckoned  most  peculiar  to  their  race 
They  have  quaffed  with  seeming  delight  their  most 
noisome  beverage ;    they  have  clothed  themselves  in 
their  most  fantastic  attire ;  they  have  humored  them 
in  their  most  capricious  moods;  and  they  have  even 
outdone  them,  in  the  apparent  fervor  with  which  they 
have  copied  their  habits,  and  adopted  their  senti- 

ments.  .  .       , ,  , 

It  would  seem  as  though,  with  nobler  ends,  our 


THADOR   AMD  OLIVVT. 


139 


irhoso  joy 
iia  iu  the 

jly  seen  on 
i4m1,  whniu 
ti  any  dim* 
,ny  ebungo 
He  Hbould 
t  Ho  WH»? 
J   good  MX' 

our  t'ttitb; 
lan  we  aro, 
n  the  pttin- 
M*e  to  cou* 
liinself  the 
cipntion  of 

en  thrown, 
f  hostile  or 
ed, that  the 
lecure  their 
iir  most  re* 
ractices  are 

their  race. 

their  moBt 
lemselves  in 
[uored  them 
y  have  even 

which  they 

their  senti* 

jr  ends,  our 


hleHJted  Redeemer  had  in  like  manner  nought  to  cnptl- 
vtitAi  our  love,  and  fistaVdish  Hi«  claim  to  brotherhood 
amongst  us.     He  entered  on  earth  with  the  rights  and 
privileges  which  His  Godhead  bestowed  on  Him.     He 
poMOfwed  thoughts,  virtues,  perfections,  that  belonged 
to  a  higher  sphere   than  we  could   ever  aspire   to. 
Frailty  was  not  Hi?!  characteristic,  death  was  not  His 
desert,  sin  was  not  His  tyrant.     There  seemed  to  l)e  a 
hedge  of  separation  between  Him  and  us,  which  would 
prevent  all  true  feeling  of  fellowship  and  brotherhood, 
and  mingle  ever  too  much  awe  and  reverence  with  our 
n«ntiments  towards  Him.     When  the  angels  appeared 
to  Abraham  in  human  form,  though  he  bad  prepared 
a  most  abundant  banquet,  yet  would  he  not  venture 
into  familiarity  with  them,  and  only  stood  by  while 
they  did  eat  (Gen.  xviii.  8),  and  thus  would  our  hu- 
manity  have  gladly  welcomed,  and  hospitably  enter- 
tained, our  divine  Guest,  who  had  condescended  to 
aasume  our  nature,  but  would  only  have  presumed  to 
wait  upon  Him  as  a  servitor  or  menial,  gliid  to  do 
homage,  but  fearftd  to  claim  a  closer  tie. 

But  such  cold  and  measured  relations  with  us  the 
deep  and  ardent  love  of  Jesus  spurned ;  and  He  re- 
solved to  give  proof  of  His  consanguinity  with  our 
frail  race,  by  bearing  the  heaviest  burthens  which  can 
be  its  lot,  in  their  most  unexampled  aggravation.  8oi^ 
row  and  affliction  are  the  portion  of  man,  and  He  laid 
them  upon  Himself,  in  this  Garden  of  Olives,  until 
they  crushed  Him  to  the  ground.  In  the  sweat  of 
His  brow  was  man,  in  the  earliest  curse,  condemned 
to  till  the  earth ;  and  a  sweat  of  blood  was  that 
wherewith  He  watered  it.      Tribulation  and  anguish 

0 


H 


IM 


THAROft    AND   OUTCT. 


wen)  the  bitter  ingmlienta  of  man's  ctip;  arnl  He 
UAae  Hii  chalice  bitter,  till  Hi*  own  l»;art  »ivk«-n«a 
at  iU  content*,  and  prayed  that  it  might  pane  away. 
The  wretchedeat  of  men  may  flml  a  nam«  for  hia 
moat  grievooa  sorrow,  but  Hia  alone  could  be  termed 
A  living  agony,  the  atrugglo  of  death  in  the  midnt  of 
health  and  vital  power.  And  did  Ho  not  thua  fully 
caUbliah  Uifl  right  to  be  the  8on  of  wretched,  outcast 
man?  Yea,  and  if  suffering  be  the  true  badge  and 
characteristic  of  our  race,  hath  He  not  justly  become 
the  very  type  of  suffering  humanity ;  and  if  the  name 
of  man  in  sacred  speech  doth  signify  "  the  afflicted,"  • 
who  shall  deny  his  right  to  the  name  and  its  miserft- 
ble  privileges,  who  on  that  evening  won  the  emphatic 
title  of  the  "  Mau  o.'  sorrows  "  ? 

And  who  will,  after  Jhis,  venture  to  say,  that  in  the 
willing  abasement  of  that  hour,  He  forfeit<id  one  tittle 
of  that  exceeding  glory  which  he  had  assumed  upon 
Mount  Thabor  I  Who  will  assert  that  He  dimmed  in 
♦he  least,  the  evidence  of  His  greatness  and  His  divin- 
ity, by  His  momentary  humiliation  I  For,  rather,  as 
the*  eclipse  which  for  a  time  hides  the  sun's  disc,  and 
withholds  his  I'ght,  proves  best  the  magnitude  of  his 
orb,  beyond  all  other  heavenly  bodies,  and  demon- 
strates him  to  be  the  centre  of  the  entire  system,  even 
80  doth  this  partial,  apparent  obscuration  only  present 
the  sui-est  proof  of  the  sublime  dignity  and  divinity  of 
our  Redeemer.  No.  Did  I  wish  to  convince  one 
whose  feelings  are  alive  to  the  noble,  the  beautiful, 
and  the  perfect,  but  whose  belief  in  Him  was  weak,  I 
would  by  no  means  take  Him  to  Mount  Thabor  where 

•  In  Hebnw. 


"^ 


TnABom  AND  oLivrr. 


131 


pann  awAy. 
M  fot*  hit 
bfl  ti»rin«d 
e  midiit  of 
thua  fully 
ted,  outcast 
badge  and 
tly  become 
if  the  name 
afflicted,"  • 
it«  miiera* 
,e  empbatio 

that  iu  the 
d  one  tittle 
lumed  upon 
dimmed  in 
I  Ilia  diviu* 
,  rather,  as 
disc,  and 
tude  of  bis 
ind  demon- 
ystem,  even 
uly  present 
I  divinity  of 
>Dvince  one 
e  beautiful, 
was  weak,  I 
labor  where 


the  spectacle  whs  moant  for  friends;  bat  I  w«)uM 
tooQcr  b'ad  Him  to  the  other  scene  of  the  Mount  of 
01iv««  The  idea  ttf  one  who  is  considered  God-njan, 
rcpr«'Hcntc<l  as  arrnycil  in  glory,  is  too  analogous  to  nat- 
ural apprehension,  to  have  so  convincing  a  force.  Hut 
the  conception  of  such  a  Btiing  presented  to  us,  "  l)ow*'<l 
beneath  sorrow  till  His  pale  foi-ehea<l  chilled  the  earth," 
with  a  body  bedewed  with  blood,  an<l  a  soul  steepe<l 
in  unutterable  angui«h — the  conception  of  such  a  One 
honoring  the  inferior  nature  which  links  Him  with 
sorrow,  by  assuming  its  characteristics  an  fully  as  lie 
ever  bore  those  of  the  sublimer,  embracing  and  cai eas- 
ing the  crudest  realities  of  His  manhood,  with  etiual 
love  and  earnestness  as  He  did  the  magnificent  prerog- 
atives of  His  Godhead  :— surely  this  is  a  thought^  an 
idea,  which  the  Iwldest  invention  never  could  have 
dreamt,  and  which  none  but  one  truly  possessed  of  tlie 
two  could  ever  have  practically  realized. 

Ko ;  had  the  Redeemer  of  man  been  Himself  l>ut 
man,  He  would  have  been  screened  from  every  infirm- 
ity of  His  nature.  He  would  have  required  the  invest- 
ment of  every  outward  attribute  of  pei-fection,  even  iii 
appearance,  to  raise  Him  above  the  rest  of  men ;  to 
make  Him  seem  worthy  of  His  immense  elevation,  and 
give  Him  a  claim  to  the  love,  the  obedience,  and  the 
veneration  of  His  fellow-raen.  Only  one,  who  was 
truly  God  as  well  aa  man,  could  aflford  to  sink  beneath 
the  lowest  level  of  homari  wretchedness,  and  hope  to 
secure  love  and  admiration  by  becoming,  to  appear- 
ance, even  less  than  man. 

And  if  our  very  faith  may  thus  be  strengthened  by 
visiting  Olivet  even  after  Thabor,  whaL  shall  we  say 


T 


132 


TIIABOB    AND   OLIVET. 


of  love,  wliose  very  home  and  harbor  is  in  comruunity 
of  suffering  ?    Who  hath  even  linked  his  heart  to  the 
stoics,  cased  in  a  mail  of  false  philosophy  proof  agmnst 
the  griefs  of  humanity  1     Who  hath  not,  like  Jonathan, 
loved  one  that  with  David,  beai-s  unmerited  persecu- 
tiou  with  meek  endeavorance  ?     And  who  then  will 
not  love  Jesus  in  the  garden,  even  more  than  on  the 
holy  mount?     I  speak  not  now,  as  I  have  already 
forewarned  you,  of  the  endearing  circumstances  that 
all  His  suffering  was  for  our  redemption.    But  only 
consider  Him  as  one  of  ourselves,  rendering  beaut.tul 
and  dignified  that  which  ordinarily  degrades  man; 
embracUig,  as  a  part  of  His  being  that  which  all  miis 
suffer,  though  not  so  severely  as  He ;  and  then  in  His 
•    higher  character  consecrating,  and  canonising  in  Hi. 
own  person  the  most  disesteemed  portion  of  our  human 
lot.    For  in-^ssimilating  Himself  thus  completely  to 
us,  and  involving  Himself  in  all  that  beats  down  the 
heart  of  man,  He  wished  to  give  proof  of  tho  holiness 
of  mind  which  may  sanctify  the  strongest  bursts  of 
uncontrollable  anguish.    Fortitude  had  been  ever  a 
virtue  among  heathens;  contempt  of  sufferings  had 
been  a  boast  among  savages:  both  of  them  b  unted 
the  edge  of  the  infliction ;  the  former  strained  the  sin- 
ews,  the  latter  hardened  them,  into  resistance. 

Resignation  was  taught  by  Christianity  alone  ;  tho 
virtue  which  bears  the  entire  weight  of  calamity,  bows 
down  without  opposition  beneath  its  force,  feels  to 
the  utmost  the  pain  it  inflicts,  and  then  rises  to  praise 
God  for  what  He  hath  permitted,  and  trusts  more 
than  ever  in  His  love.  And  of  this  holy  feeling,  he 
pm'est  and  perfectest  example  was  here  given,  m  the 


THABOB  AND  OUVET. 


18B 


omniunity 
;art  to  the 
)of  agftinst 
Jonathan, 
d  persecu- 

hen  will 
mn  on  the 
ve  already 
lances  that 

But  only 
5  beautiful 
•ades  man; 
ch  all  must 
then  in  Ilis 
jing  in  His 
Pour  human 
mpletely  to 
a  down  the 
tho  holiness 
st  bursts  of 
been  ever  a 
fferings  had 
lem  blunted 
ined  the  siu- 
ince. 

f  alone ;  tho 
lamity,  bows 
rce,  feels  to 
ses  to  praise 
trusts  more 
f  feeling,  the 
given,  in  the 


cruel  agony  endured  without  mitigation,  and  without 
repining;  and  that  too  as  a  foretaste  only  of  more 
grievous  suffering.  Can  we  for  a  moment  doul>t,  that 
Jesus  in  this  His  second  presentation  to  His  chosen 
apostles  wished  thus  to  appear,  not  merely  as  assert- 
ing  a  claim  to  brotherhood  with  us,  but  as  mdicating 
the  dignity  of  suffering,  considered  as  that  badge  of 
humanity  whereby  He  principally  claims  our  love? 

For  is  it  not  spoken  .of  in  the  sacred  volume,  as 
though  all  that  intensity  of  woe  were  but  a  state 
proper  and  belonging  to  Him,  while  the  glory  of  His 
first  appearance  is  described  as  unusual  and  unnatural? 
Would  He,  whose  countenance  giveth  intelligence  to 
the  angels,  and  splendor  to  Heaven,  have  otherwise 
been   said  to  be  transfigured,  when  it  shone  forth 
merely  as  the  sun ;  and  not  rather  be  deemed  then 
transfigured,  when  defaced  and  defiled,  bruised  and 
smitten  ?     Would  He,  whose  body  was  untouched  by 
sinfulness,  whose  mind,  when  busied  amidst  a  wicked 
world,  was  purer  than  the  chastest  virgin's  holiest 
meditations,  have  been  said  to  undergo  a  transforma- 
tion,  when  the  raiment  that  covered  Him,  caught  the 
color  of  His  purity,  and  looked  white  only  as  the 
snow ;  and  was  He  not  to  be  called  transformed,  when 
His  robes  were  red  with  His  own  blood,  as  though 
He  came  from  Edom,  having  dyed  His  garments  in 
Bozra?     (Is.  Ixiii.  1.)    Would  that  have  been  called 
a  transfiguration  of  the  Lord  of  glory,  where  the  saints 
surround  Him,  to  pay  their  court,  and  the  heavens 
tell  of  His  glory;  and  not  rather  then,  when  stripped 
of  all  marks  of  dignity,  cast  off  and  abandoned  at  once 
by  earth  and  Heaven? 


134 


THABOR   AND   OLIVET. 


No ;  in  all  this  He  wished  us  to  consider  Him  as  in 
His  own  chosen  state.  He  cared  not  to  extort  our 
admiration,  by  a  display  of  His  surpassing  majesty ; 
He  spoke  of  it  as  of  a  momentary  extraordinary 
glimpse,  a  change  which,  for  momentous  reasons.  He 
allowed  to  remove  Him  from  our  society;  but  He 
strove  to  win  our  love,  by  tasting  more  earnestly  of 
the  fruits  of  humanity  even  than  we,  by  joining  us  in 
the  most  trying  allotments  of  God's  dispensation,  and 
proving  to  us  the  dignity  of  our  nature,  by  not  dis- 
daining t    assume  its  most  humble  and  most  abject 

forms. 

But  shall  the  more  endearing  lessons  of  thl'i  second 
transfiguration  destroy  the  recollection  of  tb-s  first? 
God  forbid ;  but  let  the  one  ever  be  by  the  other  tem- 
pered. The  princes  of  earth  have  their  winter  and  their 
summer  residences,  that  pleasure  may  be  enhanced  by 
variety,  and  each  season  have  its  fitting  dwelling- 
place.  And  so  be  it  ever  with  the  Christian  who  lov- 
eth  Jesus.  Let  him  have  in  Thabor  and  Olivet  a  two- 
fold  retreat,  suitable  to  its  various  states.  When  his 
faith  is  cold,  or  his  thoughts  begin  to  grovel  and  creep 
on  earth ;  when  Heaven  seems  too  distant,  and  its  ac- 
quisition too  painful;  when  dejection  and  pusillani- 
mity assail  him,  let  him  ascend  the  mountain  of  glory, 
and  basking  in  its  splendore,  and  hearkening  to  its  evi- 
dences, and  gazing  on  its  enticements,  there  refresh  and 
strengthen  his  mind  and  his  belief. 

But  in  the  softer  and  the  milder  hour,  when  love 
reproaches  you  in  your  silent  breast,  that  it  is  neglect- 
ed ;  when  teara  of  penitent  sorrow  begin  to  gush  from 
the  eyes :  when  the  world  and  its  afflictions  lie  wearily 


iiW 


THAfiOK   AND    OLIVBT. 


185 


Him  as  in 
jxtort  our 
r  majesty; 
raovdinary 
easons,  He 
;  but  He 
arnestly  of 
ining  us  in 
satioD,  and 
by  not  dia- 
tost  abject 

;hl't  second 
'  tb^  first? 
I  other  tem- 
5r  and  their 
ihanced  by 
r  dwelling- 
in  wholov- 
livet  a  two- 
When  his 
si  and  creep 
and  its  ao- 
i  pusillani- 
in  of  glory, 
jg  to  its  evi- 
refresh  and 


upon  the  heart;  when  your  soul  feels  sorrowful  even 
uuto  death,  oh  I  repair  to  the  Mount  of  Olives,  the 
hill  of  unction  and  of  rich  abundance,  there  to  weep 
and  to  pray,  to  sympathize  and  be  comforted. 

Upon  both  these  sacred  mountains  it  is  good  for  us 
to  be.    Let  us  make  upon  each  a  tabernacle,  wherein 
we  may  in  spiiit  dwell ;  and  then  we  may  with  well- 
grounded  hope  expect,  that  the  third,  not  made  with 
hands,  our  lasting  dwelling,  shall  be  prepared  for  us 
on  the  holy  mount :  that  Sion  which  is  in  Heaven,  on 
which  is  the  city  of  the  living  God,  the  true  Jerusa- 
lem, where  we  shall  meet  not  one  solitary  angel  of 
comfort,  but  "  the  company  of  many  thousands,"  of 
those  raessengei-8  of  salvation ;   not  a  few  saints  of 
either  covenant,  but  the  array  of  the  "  spirits  of  the 
just  made  perfect,"  with  Jesus  above  all,  and  amidst 
all,  the  Mediator,  and  the  Head  of  "  the  Church  of 
the  fii-st-boi-n,"  with  that  humanity  which  was  by  turns 
glorified  and  abased  on  earth,  now  permanently  shin- 
ing with  the  splendor  of  Thabor,  yet  retaining  "the 
sprinkling  of  blood,"  which  purified  and  fertilized  the 
earth  on  Olivet.  (Heb.  xii.  22.) 


,  when  love 
t  is  neglect- 
>  gush  from 
» lie  wearily 


•4MM 


»-'  ^ 


SERMON  VII. 
m  (ffomlttfl  to  ^mn  tot  ^tfmUmtnt 

Matt,  sL  28. 

••  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  nflreah 

you." 

Had  the  blessed  Josus  proclaimed,  Como  unto  me 
all  ye  that  are  poor,  and  I  will  enrich  you,  or  all  ye 
that  are  oppressed,  and  I  will  redress  you,  or  all  ye 
that  are  sore  and  sick,  and  I  will  heal  you ;  and  had 
He  appo  ited  certain  visible  treasure-houses  or  dis- 
pensaries, where  these  blessings  might  be  dealt  out  to 
such  as  sought  them,  I  believe,  my  brethren,  that  He 
would  at  no  time  have  wanted  a  crowd  of  eager  and 
zealous  follower,  and  that  long  trains  of  pilgrims 
would  be  daily  seen  starting  to  give  proof  to  the 
heavenly  promise,  by  seeking  therein  the  remedy  of 
their  evils.    And  yet  in  any  such  hope,  had  He  pro- 
posed it,  there  would  have  been  but  scanty  measure 
of  relief  for  the  ills  which  oppress  us ;  nor  could  He 
have  well  attempted  to  number  each  of  these,  how- 
ever large  His  discourse,  with  a  provision  of  suitable 
remedy,  without  leaving  some  sore  place  in  man's 
estate  without  its  balm,  and  some  uneasiness  of  his 
nature  without  its  consolation.    But  in  the  gracious 
speech  quoted.  He  hath  comprehended  in  two  words 
all  the  evils  and  distresses  which  can  vex  or  afflict  us 


ON   COJriNO   TO   JESUS  FOB   nEFREailMETTT. 


137 


ntttt. 


id  I  wUl  refredi 

no  unto  me 
ou,  or  all  yo 
>u,  or  all  ye 
)u ;  and  had 
)use8  or  dia- 
dealt  out  to 
•en,  that  He 
if  eager  and 
of  pilgrims 
jroof  to  the 
16  remedy  of 
had  He  pro- 
mty  measure 
lor  could  He 
'  these,  how- 
1  of  suitable 
)ce  in  man's 
siness  of  his 
the  gracious 
n  two  words 
K  or  afflict  us 


(for  all  are  a  hihor  and  a  burden),  and  in  anotliei-,  '-i 
tli.it  short  sweet  invitation,  come,  which  the  last  page 
(if  the  inspired  volume  puts  into  the  mouth  of  the 
hride  and  of  the  spirit  (Apoc.  xxii.  17),  He  hath  con- 
(ItMwed  all  the  wisdom  of  consoling  aphorisms,  and  all 
the  treasures  of  spiritual  pharmacy,  together   with 
many  heavenly  philtres  and  charms  of  a  most  marvel- 
lous operation.     And  note,  I.  pray  you,  how  much 
more  comprehensive  and  effectual  is  the  simple  and 
general  prescription.     For  as  to  its  comprehensiveness 
it  thus  comes  to  n^ach  to  the  heart,  to  the  mind,  and 
to  the  soul,  embracing  all  the  thousand  indefinable 
ailments  and  sicknesses  of  each,  though  offtring  one 
only  universal  cure :  which,  without  danger  of  error 
or  -excess,  acts  upon  eadi  according  to  its  own  peculiar 
need,  and  bestows  everywhere  comfort,  relief,  and  in- 
creased strength.    Then  as  to  the  virtue  and  efficacy 
of  this  <Vivine  promise,  if  you  feel  inclined  to  doubt 
thereof,  I  know  not  what  I  can  say  other  than  did 
Philip  to  Nathaniel,  upon  his  misdoubting  the  praises 
uttered  of  our  Saviour  upon  His  being  fii'st  discovered: 
whereupon  Philip  was  contented  to  answer,  "Come 
and  see."     (John,  i.  46.)     And  so  do  I  say  to  you, 
come  ye  all  and  see,  and  make  proof  thereof,  bringing 
your  respective  burthens  and  labore  to  His  feet,  and 
cast  them  down  before  Him,  and  He  will  bless  them : 
and  ye  shall  take  them  up  again,  and  find  them  no 
longer  heavy  or  distasteful,  for  they  will  by  that  bless- 
ing have  been  changed  into  His  burthen,  which  is 
light ;  and  into  His  yoke,  which  is  most  sweet. 

It  is  my  wish  to  aid  you  in  this  experiment,  by 
pointing  out  the  way  wherein  each  one  may  best  come 


V 


188        OK   COMINO   TO   JK8UB   TOR    REKRhailMENT. 

unto  Jenna,  according  to  the  ')ecuHar  relief  whicb  he 
,?n'aireH  at  His  Lund,  showing  the  fittest  season,  as 
■  were,  and  attitude  wherein  he  should  approach 
Him,  how  he  should  oramune  with  Him  regarding 
his  distress,  and  how  be  may  expect  to  receive  His 
blessed  assistance. 

And  first,  I  would  address  those  on  whom  the  va- 
rious ills  of  life  do  seem  to  weigh  with  undeserved 
rigor,  those  who  imagine  that  God  hath  dealt  hardly 
with  them,  because  they  are  but  scantily  supplied  with 
earthly  goods,  or  because  their  life  is  a  continual  suf- 
fering from  accident*  or  illness,  or  because  unjust  cal- 
umnies and  bitter  injuries  keep  them  in  constant  dis- 
turbance, or  because  the  world  has  refused  to  do  jus- 
tice to  their  merits,  but  has  rejected  and  ill  treated 
them,  though  its  signal  benefactoi-s.      Or,  I  will  sup- 
pose, all  these  various  evils,  each  sufficient  to  embitter 
one  particular  life,  united  in  the  same  person ;  and  he 
will  undoubtedly  consider  himself  as  arrived  at  the 
uttermost  point  of  human  wretchedness.     Now,  wish- 
ing to  lead  this  sufferer  to  Jesus,  for  refreshment,  such 
is  the  ovei-flowing  richness  of  consolation  in  Him,  and 
80  mean  is  all  that  we  have  rehearsed  in  the  scale  of 
true  unbappiness,  that  I  would  not  take  him  higher  to 
drink  than  the  first  gushing  forth  of  this  well-spring 
of  true  comfort,  reserving  the  fulness  of  its  watf  a  for 
more  grievous  sorrows.     I  would  bid  him  approach 
his  infant  Saviour,  and  ask  for  consolation  at  the  crib 
of   Bethlehem.      There  he  shall  see  all  those  evils 
whereof  be,  in  the  power  of   manhood,  complains, 
combined  in  ten-fold  strength,  to  afflict  a  tender  child ; 
and  what  he  considered  the  winding  up,  and  final  con- 


m 


[ENT. 

ef  whicb  he 
t  season,  as 
d  opproftch 
n  regarding 
receive  Ilia 

lom  the  va« 
undeserved 
Jealt  hardly 
applied  with 
ontinual  suf- 
3  unjust  cal- 
constant  dis- 
d  to  do  jus- 
i  ill  treated 
•,  I  will  sup- 
t  to  embitter 
•son ;  and  he 
rived  at  the 
Now,  wish- 
shment,  such 
in  Him,  and 
a  the  scale  of 
lim  higher  to 
s  well-spring 
its  watf  a  for 
im  approach 
n  at  the  crib 
11  those  evils 
1,  complains, 
tender  child ; 
and  final  con- 


Oir   COMINO   TO   JESUS   FOU   REFRESIIMKIfT. 


130 


summation  of  accumulating  misfortunes,  here  chosen 
as  but  the  prologue  to  a  bitter,  and  touching  mystery  of 
love.  There  will  he  see  a  royal  babe  exposed  so  soon 
as  born,  to  the  biting  frost  of  a  cruel  winter,  without 
the  comfort  of  a  decent  roof,  or  sufficient  cloth!  .g  to 
protect  it;  seeing  and  touching  around  it,  on  that 
fii-st  night  of  life,  and  suffering,  nothing  but  the  plain- 
est tokens  of  rudest  poverty  ;  then  undergoing,  with 
full  consciousness,  the  degradation  of  a  painful  rite, 
and  scarcely  recovered,  sought  after  by  a  prince  who 
would  give  the  diadem  from  his  brows,  to  him  that 
should  slay  it.  Then  He  is  forced  to  fly  with  but 
sorry  attendance,  through  a  long  winter  journey,  into 
a  foreign  land,  the  banished  and  proscribed,  poorer, 
even,  and  more  abject  than  He  would  have  been  in 
His  own  cottage  at  Nazai-eth ;  and  thus,  within  a  few 
days  of  His  birth,  does  He  bear  all  the  burden  of 
temporal  evils,  which  the  most  wicked,  or  the  most 
pei*8ecuted  of  men,  could  well  incur  in  the  course  of  a 
very  long  life.  And  surely,  if  -the  power  of  sympa. 
thy  is  so  gi'eat  in  relieving  sorrow,  if  we  bear  with 
greater  cheerfulness  when  we  see  others,  equally  wor- 
thy, sharing  the  same  load,  what  consolation  must  we 
not  derive  from  seeing  who  is  here  the  companion  of 
our  misfortunes,  of  our  poverty,  the  King  of  kings  ; 
of  our  persecution,  thii  Holy  One ;  of  our  rejection, 
the  anointed  of  God ;  of  our  pain  and  sorrow,  the  in- 
nocent Lamb,  the  world's  infant  Saviour. 

Then  too  you  may  go  nearer  and  reflect.  You  suf- 
fer by  a  dispensation  over  which  you  have  no  control, 
and  to  which  you  must  perforce  submit.  But  this 
tender  sufferer,  wherefore  doth  He  endure  so  much, 


140      ON  coMixo  TO  jraim  fou  refhi'^iimknt. 

speing  thftt  Ho  w   the   Tjord  of  all  things,  anil  the 
author  of  every  blfHHing?     Why  ilot«  lie  not  give 
the  word  to  the  Hhepheids  that  cnine  t«  worship,  and 
they  will  proclaim  Him  to  the  world ;  and  jjresently 
He  shall  eee  the  whole  coxintry  aroused  and  bringing 
forth  itH  best  gifts,  and  His  crib  9urn)unded  with  no- 
bles, and  warriors,  and  priests,  and  tetrarchs,  "and  all 
the  people  of  the  land,"  who  shall  be  proud  to  carry 
Him  on  thtir  shoulders,  unto  the  city  and  palace  of 
David,  even  as  they  did  the  infant  Joas,  merely  be- 
cause He  was  to   be  His  forefather,  and  bear  Him 
through  the  gate  thereof,  and  place  Him  on  the  throne 
of  the  kings  ?     (4  Kings,  xi.  19.)     Why  doth  not  the 
angel,  in  warning  the  wise  men  against  visiting  Herod 
on  their  return,  tell  them  that  he  sought  the  infant's 
life,  and  give  it  into  their  charge  ;  and  presently  they 
will  wrap  Him  up  in  costly  fui-s,  and  place  Him  in  a 
jewelled  cradle,  and  bear  Him  away  on  their  camels 
as  a  priceless  treasure  into  their  own  country,  where 
He  shall  be  tended  and  cared  for  as  befits  so  great  and 
mighty  a  Lord  ?    Or  why  doth  He  not  ask  of  His 
Father  a  legion  of  those  angels  who  have  come  to  sing 
"glory"   above  His  birth-place;   and  they  shall  be 
flattered  by  the  charge  to  bear  Him  up  in  their  hands 
and  defend  Him  against  all  the  powere  of  earth,  and 
minister  unto  His  wants,  as  they  did  afterwards  in  the 
wilderness  ? 

Dost  thou  who  sufferest  ask  thus  ?  Does  not  thine 
own  heart  tell  thee  that  it  was  in  order  that  He  might 
be  like  to  thee,  and  thou  like  unto  Him  i  that  He 
might  show  thee  how  wretchedness  and  pain  are  more 
akin,  and,  as  it  were,  foster-brethren  to  Him,  sucking 


I  Km". 

igH,  and  the 
Ih  not  give 
k-orsbip,  and 
id  presently 
nd  bringing 
ed  with  no 
.'hn,  *^  and  all 
>ud  to  carry 
id  palace  of 

merely  be- 
i  bear  Him 
)n  the  throne 
doth  not  the 
siting  Herod 

the  infant'e 
esently  they 
se  Him  in  a 
their  camels 
untry,  where 
I  BO  great  and 

ask  of  His 
come  to  sing 
iey  shall  be 
3  their  hands 
>f  earth,  and 
rwards  in  the 

)e9  not  thine 
lat  He  might 
mi  that  He 
tain  are  more 
Elim,  sucking 


ON   COMING   TO  jfcBCS   TOR   nEFRBSiniENT. 

the  breasts  of  His  own  mother,  rather  than  riches  and 
happiness?  And  art  thou  not  more  than  consoled, 
yea,  filled  with  joy  and  delight,  to  think  that  thou, 
whom  others  (lespinc,  art,  therefore,  the  dearer  to  Him, 
and  closer  to  His  heart,  and  mayest  presume  the  more 
upon  His  kindness;  that  the  gifts  thou  presentest 
Him  are  a  thousand  times  more  precious  and  accepta- 
ble in  His  sight,  than  the  offerings  of  those  eastern 
kings ;  that  thy  prayer  is,  according  to  His  own  word, 
truly  as  frankincense  which  pierceth  the  clouds,  and 
departs  not  till  the  Most  Highest  shall  behold  ;  that 
thy  patient  endurance  is  a  myrrh,  bitter,  indeed,  ia 
the  mouth  of  him  that  tasteth  it,  yet  suffusing  a  pre- 
cious savor,  like  the  Magdalen's  spikenard,  before 
Him  whose  feet  thou  wipest  in  humble  resignation ; 
that  thine  own  heart,  thine  own  self,  is  as  burnished 
gold,  proved  and  annealed  for  Him  in  the  furnace  of 
tribulation  1  And  thus  will  you  not  wonder  why  His 
blessed  mother,  poor  and  persecuted,  like  Himself  and 
you,  should  be  said  to  have  laid  up  all  these  words  in 
her  heart,  as  holy  stores  of  joy  and  comfort  for  all 
sorrow  and  misfortune.  And  thus  early  doth  Jesus 
begin  to  afford  refreshment. 

But  beyond  this  fii-st  class  of  worldly  wretchedness 
rises  another  still  more  difficult  to  b*^ar,  and  requiring 
a  riper  grace,^ — the  sufferings  of  the  spirit.  Some 
there  may  be,  though  probably  they  are  few,  who 
have  to  deplore  the  early  ruin  and  destrnction  of  all 
religious  principle  or  feeling  within  them,  and  after 
having  yielded  to  the  wiles  of  some  temptei-,  find 
themselves  now  to  have  been  driven  from  a  paradise 
of  happiness  and  peace,  to  which  all  return  seems  in- 


> 


I 


J 


•Ato 


\ 


t4f        ON   COMINO   T«>  JX»V»   I'OR   KKrRI':MII.M>:NT. 

•■ombly  dehanrd.  Th««r«  can  hunlly  be  concolved  A 
cl<»flp«T  wretchednPM  than  the  coti«<Mon«n<'f»«  and  err.- 
viction  of  trtith,  without  the  pt)W«r  to  t'luhrnoe  it,  thnn 
this  ftwerish  longing  after  a  blessing,  once  within  our 
rrach,  b^t  now  withheld  for  our  ill  dtiawrH.  No  on« 
can  describe  the  pangs  of  reinor^,  the  racks  and  hooks 
of  jealousy  and  envy  towards  others,  the  perpetual 
scourge  of  self-reproach,  which  such  a  per«on  must  en- 
dure; and  truly  it  is  a  burden  beyond  all  the  out- 
ward evila  of  this  world. 

But  besides  this  grievous  burden  of  interior  tribo* 
lation,  there  is  a  labor  which  causes  much  uneasiness 
and  pain,  when  the  mind  has  not  been  wholly  shaken 
from  the  foundation  of  its  early  religious  conviction, 
but  finds  itself  unsteady  and  wavering  on  them ;  when, 
like  the  covering  cherub,  it  hath  not  been  cast  down 
from  God's  holy  mount,  but  walketh  up  and  down 
thereon  among  the  stones  of  fire  (Ezec.  xxviii.),  uncer- 
tain which  to  choose  for  its  badge  and  signet  And 
in  this  age,  when  a  keen  and  restless  spirit  of  inquiry 
has  descended  among  the  children  of  men,  and  in  this 
country  where  every  year,  every  month,  every  day 
detects  some  new  fallacy  whereby  they  or  their  fore- 
fathers have  been  misled  into  hasty  and  unjust  opin- 
ions on  the  8ul)ject  of  religion,  the  number  of  those 
cannot  be  small,  who,  either  by  their  attention  to  pass- 
ing events,  or  by  the  force  of  their  own  reflections,  or 
by  the  clearer  and  bolder  announcement  of  doctrines 
which,  for  three  cepturies,  have  been  only  whispered 
in  the  ear,  have  been  led  to  entertain  some  doubts 
touching  much  which  they  have  been  taught,  or  at 
least  some  fear  or  surmise  sufficient  to  break  or  flaw 


•Ak 


=  =^  .:^ir,^;*^s^.  ^^aaaJ^ifea^-^^gi^a^^^ 


CJTT. 

onco!ve<!  ft 
«  and  <"*n- 
(loe  it,  t linn 
within  our 
I.     No  on« 

I  and  hookH 

perpetual 
m  must  en- 

II  the  out> 

erior  tribn* 

uneoaineM 

}lly  nhaken 

conviction, 

lem;  when, 

cast  down 

and  down 

riii.),  unce^ 

jnet    And 

of  inquiry 

and  in  this 

every  day 

their  fore- 

injust  opin- 

er  of  thoM 

ion  to  pasa- 

flections,  or 

>f  doctrines 

'  whispered 

>me  doabts 

ught,  or  at 

fak  or  flaw 


OK   eOMINU  TO   JKMt'H    roll    I(KKRK>IIMKNT. 


14.T 


tlio  illusion  of  previous  security,  and  in<»culnt«  its  con- 
Btituti«)n  with  a  principhi  of  restlessnes*,  which  munt 
Ruoner  or  later  l)reftk  out  into  activity.  Nor,  if  once  a 
solemn  dooht  of  what  till  now  has  been  held  as  certain, 
presents  itself  before  you,  so  long  as  you  admit  not  a 
controlling  or  deciding  power  with  authority  at  once 
to  quell  it,  can  you  calm  the  mind  or  lull  it  to  peace, 
l)y  aiTesting  or  checking  its  onward  course.  Nor 
would  it,  indeed,  be  just  or  generous  in  any  one,  who 
begins  to  find  error  mingled  with  his  early  prepos- 
setwions  to  arrest  the  eagerness  for  further  inquiry, 
which  such  a  diflcovery  must  awaken.  Every  mistaken 
opinion  reflecting  on  the  princ'nles  or  practice  of  oth- 
ers, is  an  injustice  to  them  however  involuntary ;  and 
to  be  alarmed  at  finding  early  prejudices  shaken,  or 
believed  representations  proved  erroneous,  and  to  turn 
the  mind  from  prosecuting  investigation  from  fear  of 
its  being  further  undeceived,  is  as  unjust  as  to  suspend 
the  examination  of  our  accounts  with  others,  for  fear 
of  discovering  further  errors  in  our  reckonings,  that 
might  oblige  us  to  reparation. 

But  for  either  of  these  troubles  of  the  mind  and 
spirit  there  b  refitishment  in  Jesus.  Come  unto  Him 
when,  now  entered  upon  His  heavenly  mission,  He 
teaches  the  multitudes,  or  opens  to  His  apostles  the 
mysteries  of  faith.  And  how  are  ye  to  come  fo  Him  ? 
By  deep  and  earnest  study  of  His  holy  word,  wherain 
as  it  were  His  whole  image  \a  reflected,  read  in  humil- 
ity, docility,  and  disinterested  readiness  to  obey  His 
calls,  rendered  frnitful  by  fervent  and  persevering 
prayer;  by  listening  to  His  word,  as  expounded  to 
you  by  His  miniatem,  gladly  receiving  such  lights  as 


f 


U4        OM  OOMINO   TO  JWVA   FOB   RRfRrMlMKNT. 

mftv  wrve  to  Ruidc  you  towards  tho  .ettlinj;  of  yonr 
doubts,  «enoi»ly  wHRhing  nm\x  evidence  im  may  he 
laid  Mor^  you  in  candor  and  charity,  however  opjK«ed 
tu  your  former  opinion.,  thuikfully  accepting  m.ch  ex- 
planations  and  repi'-aentii '.ions  ni  may  correct  the  pre- 
Hm.e.i.lons  instilled  by  ignorftPt  or  mistaken  teachers. 
For  th.is  wo  learn,  that  even  m  His  lifetime  they  who 
wished  to  come  unto  Jesus  with  advantage  were  not 
content  to  stand  aloof,  f.>llowing  Ilim  in  the  crowd, 
nor  yet  ventured  to  approach  directly,  and  of  them- 
s^dves,  before  Him,  but  rather  "  came  unto  Phihp  who 
was  of  Bethsaida  of  Galilee,  and  desired  him,  saying: 
Sir,  we  would  see  Jesus.   (Jo.  xii.  21.)     And  thus, 
likewise,  will  the  ministry  of  His  servants,  however 
unworthy,  often  procure  a  speedier  and  happier  ao- 
nuaintance  with  Him,  and  readier  access  to  the  peace 
and  refreshment  of  his  knowledge,  than  your  own  direct 
and  unaided  efforts. 

And  from  Hi.  holy  word  we  may  easily  learn  the 
dispositions  and  feelings  wherewith  you  should  come 

''"Corae'^ot  as  did  the  Sadducees,  determined  to  doubt 
and  to  dispute  everything,  even  to  the  first  foundo- 
tions  whereon  faith  may  be  built ;  nor  as  the  Herodi- 
ans,  putting  to  the  test  of  captious  and  irrelevant  con- 
sequences,  and  of  political  considerations,  the  pure 
dogmas  of  religion.     (Matt,  xxu.)  , 

Come  not,  as  did  the  Pharisees,  to  catch  Him  m  His 
words  (Mar.  xii.  18),  by  merely. laying  hold  of  expres- 
Bions  rather  than  things,  and  taking  offence  and  scan- 
dal  at  words,  without  attending  to  the  spirit  which 
direct*  them,  and  the  meaningHhey  inclose. 


lENT. 

lin;^  of  yonr 
M  may  be 
sver  opposed 
,inpf  nuoh  «'X- 
n^ct  th«  pre* 
t«n  t«acheri. 
ne  th<^y  who 
igo,  were  not 
u  the  crowd, 
md  of  them- 

0  Philip  who 
him,  saying: 

And  thui, 
ntB,  however 

1  happier  ao- 
to  the  peace 

>ur  own  direct 

sily  learn  the 
should  come 

lined  to  donbt 
first  foondiu 
.8  the  Herodi* 
rrelevant  con- 
ons,  the  pure 

:h  Him  in  His 
lold  of  express 
csnco  and  scan- 


OW  COMINO  TO  JBIU8   FOR   RKFRFilllMimT. 


145 


e  spirit  which 


Come  not,  a«  did  the  doctor  of  the  law,  and  umny 
others,  tempting  Him.  (Matt,  xxji  55.)  Hy  which 
expr«'«»ion  two  different  thing*  «re  meant  in  Holy 
Writ.  Fifit,  deman«ling  of  (lod  some  d»'ftnit«  and 
sp«'cific  line  of  evidence,  or  laying  down  some  aif' 
willed  terras  of  conviction,  opon  which  alone  we  \'V\ 
yield  to  what  is  proposed  to  us  as  His  truth  ;  in  whicn 
sense  Aclmz  said,  "  I  will  not  ask  (a  sign),  and  I  will 
not  tempt  the  Lord"  (Is.  viii.  12),  nnd  Judith  r»v 
proaohed  the  rulera  of  Bethulla,  saying,  "  Who  .re  ye 
that  this  day  have  tempted  the  Lonl"  (Jud.  viii.  12), 
by  fixing  a  doy  for  His  deliverance  I  iind  Ht.  Luke 
tells  of  some  who  "  tempting  Jesus,  usked  of  Ifim  a 
sign  from  heaven."  (Luc.  xi.  16.)  And  again,  y)y  the 
same  plirase  is  signified  the  constant  recurrence  and 
repetition  of  the  same  difficulties  and  dissatisfaction, 
the  returning  to  them  once  answered  and  removed :  in 
which  sense  the  Jewti  are  said  repeatedly  in  Scripture 
to  have  tempted  or  provoked  God,  or  rather  His 
Word  in  the  wilderness,  by  ever  murmuring  anew, 
and  refusing  to  be  content  with  what  He  had  done 
for  their  satisfaction,  rejecting  ever  tire  proofs  of  di- 
vine  mission  given  to  His  servant  Moses.  And  in 
either  of  these  ways,  beware  ye  tempt  not  Jesus. 

Come  not  as  did  the  young  man,  eagerly  asking 
what  he  should  do  to  be  saved,  and  upon  finding  tiiat 
the  terms  of  salvation  touched  him  in  bis  worldly 
good?,  and  must  bring  with  it  their  loss,  went  away 
again  sorrowful. 

.     Come  not,  in  flue,  as  did  the  Jewish  multitude,  fol- 
lowing Him  even  into  the  wilderness  to  hear  His 
word,  and  then  when  Kia  doctrines  shocked  their  pre- 
10 


I 


146         ON   COMING   TO   JE8U8   FOR  REFRESHMENT. 

judicea,  and  attacked  theiv  national  religion,  took  up 
stones  to  insult  and  injure  Him ;  nor  like  those  disci- 
ples who  first  eagerly  cleaved  unto  Him,  and  followed 
Him  over  all  the  land ;  but  as  soon  as  they  heard  a 
proposition  which  wounded  reason's  pride,  exclaimed, 
"This  is  a  hard  saying,  who  can  hear  it,  and  went 
back   and  walked  no   more  with  Him."      (Jo.   vi. 

61-6Y.) 

But  rather  come  unto  Him  as  did  the  father  of  him 
possessed,  "  crying  out  with  tears :  I  do  believe  ;  Lord, 
help  thou  my  unbelief."     (Mar.  ix.  23.) 

Come  like  Nicodemus,  who,  not  content  with  the 
general  instruction  he  might  receive  by  stand" ug  in 
the  Temple's  porch,  or  attending  Jesus  in  the  crowd, 
sought  to  have  private  speech  of  Him,  to  propose  his 
own  particular  doubts,  and  consult  in  the  silence  of 
night  the  interests  of  his  own  salvation,  receiving  with 
meekness  the  severe  reproof  given  him  for  his  ill-timed 
objection,  and  becoming  one  of  those  few  steadfast 
followers,  who  feared  not  to  own  Him  as  a  master  im- 
mediately after  the  ignominy  of  His  cross. 

Come  to  Him  as  Peter  and  the  eleven,  who,  after 
they  had  heard,  on  His  sufficient  authority,  doctrines 
incomprehensible  to  their  reason,  and  repugnant  to 
their  senses,  surrendered  their  belief  into  His  hands 
without  reserve,  exclaiming:  "Unto  whom  shall  we 
go  ?    Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life."     (Jo.  vi.) 

Come  to  Him  like  Mary  Magdalen,  leaving  to  Mar- 
tha,  or  those  of  your  household,  the  cares  and  anxiety 
of  domestic  and  worldly  concerns,  and  heedless  of 
their  reproof,  cast  yourself  at  His  feet,  sit  there  in 
lowly  and  respectful  attitude,  in  teachable  and  hum. 


^. 


M-JMfc..^--,     iiXmmtVimiimmmaiikiM  -^iril^Mii 


MENT. 

;ion,  took  up 
i  those  disci- 
and  followed 
they  heard  a 
e,  exclaimed, 
it,  and  went 
I."      (Jo.   vi. 

•ather  of  him 
jlieve;  Lord, 

ent  with  the 
r  stand*  Jg  in 
n  the  crowd, 
>  propose  his 
he  silence  of 
eceiving  with 
r  his  ill-timed 
few  steadfast 
)  a  master  im- 

19. 

Bn,  who,  after 
'ity,  doctrines 
repugnant  to 
ito  His  hands 
hom  shall  we 
;."  (Jo.  vi.) 
saving  to  Mar- 
ts and  anxiety 
d  heedless  of 
t,  sit  there  in 
ble  and  hum- 


r 


ON  COMING   TO   JF,SU8  FOR   REFRESHMENT.         147 

Me  mood,  looking  upwards  into  a  countenance  whose 
calm  majesty  stamps  truth  on  all  He  teaches,  and 
whose  winning  smile  can  engage  any  one  to  embrace 
and  practise  it. 

Or  rather  aim  at  still  nobler  feelings ;  and  if  the 
solemn  rite  which  I  have  interrupted  form,  as  it  gen- 
erally does,  the  great  stumbling-block  of  your  un- 
settled faith,  come  with  John  the  beloved  unto  Him, 
when  instituting  the  mysteries  of  unspeakable  and 
unimaginable  charity  at  His  last  supper,  and  lean  in 
childlike  love  and  abandonment  upon  the  bosom  that 
conceives  it.  Hear  well  its  throbs  and  gighs  after 
your  redemption,  the  throes  and  pangs  of  this  your 
birth-hour  unto  life ;  take  well  the  measurements  of 
this  deep  and  full  cistern  of  mercy  and  graciousness, 
that  "  ye  may  be  able  to  comprehend,  with  all  the 
saints,  what  is  the  breadth,  and  length,  and  height, 
and  depth  of  the  charity  of  Christ,  which  surpasseth 
all  knowledge"  (Eph.  iii.  18) ;  consider  the  majesty  ot 
divine  almightiness,  the  ineffable  energies  of  creative 
wisdom,  and  the  boundless  eflEicacy  of  redeeming  lovt 
which  dwelt  therein  together  as  in  a  holy  temple,  now 
joined  in  solemn  counsel  how  to  leave  some  last  God 
like  legacy  to  man  worthy  of  them  all;  feel  that 
bosom,  as  you  repose  thereon,  swelling  and  heaving 
with  this  great  and  majestical  birth,  this  crowning 
work  of  love ;  and  then  assuredly  will  your  doubts 
change  into  confidence,  your  hesitations  into -assur- 
ance, your  perplexity  into  peace,  and  nothing  will  ap- 
pear too  bold,  too  mighty,  too  divine,  for  such  love  to 
have  given  cl  u^uch  aii  hour,  or  for  such  a  soul  like 
yours  to  believe  in  such  an  attitude.    There,  there  at 


S,««IMJl!k-PI«W9l«W*'^^ 


! 


r 


'ilWllfcii     . 


\ 


148        OK  COMING  TO  JMUa   FOR  REFRESllMEirr. 

lenjrth  in  that  belief,  you  will  have  opened  the  fall 
fountains  of  life;  there  you  may  slake  your  burning 
thirst,  and  feel  in  Jesos  refreshment  after  the  weari- 
ness  of  anxious  doubt. 

Yet  is  there  a  heavier  vireight,  and  a  more  grievous 
labor,  than  any  of  these,-one  to  which  we  all  are 
•subject,  and  under  which  we  all  mus    g.;oan,-the 
weight  of  sin,  as  the  apostle  justly  calls  »t.     (Heb 
xiii  ^    Under  this  we  all  walk  from  our  childhood 
bowed  down  to  the  ground,  and    'ith  our  own  hand* 
we  have  added  burden  unto  burden,  heaping  it  up, 
until  its  load  almost  prevents  us  from  looking  up 
into  the  face  of  Heaven.    And  who  amongst  us  hath 
not  experienced  the  sorrows  and  miseries  of  this  sad 
state  1  Who  hath  not  felt  the  anguish  and  tortu-e  of  a 
rejection  by  God,  and  the  loss  of  His  holy  favor,  an^ 
withal,  the    ignominy,  the   helplessness    the  entity 
wretchedness  which  it  must  produce  withm  the  soull 
And  it  hath  seemed  some  time  to  us  as  if  a  gulf  vyas 
placed  between  us  and  His  mercy,  between  our  spirit 
and  His,-a  wide,  deep,  impassable  gap  in  our  atta^^h- 
ments   ind    habits,  in  our  affections  and    adopted 
nature,  which  no  power  could  enable  us  to  surpass; 
and  we  were  thus  tempted  to  colisider  our  case  aa 
hopeless,  and  our  sore  as  incurable.    And  yet,  my 
brethren,  it  was  not  so.    It  is  such  as  are  in  this  most 
miserable  state  that  Jesus  principally  had  in  view 
whence  promised  refreshment  to  the  troubled  and 
oppressed.    Draw  nigh,  come  unto  Him, ^1  ye  that 
labor  with  sin,  and  are  heavy  laden  with  iniquity 
and  He  will  refresh  you.    Come  to  Him  at  that 
hour,  when,  His  teaching  finished.  He  is  made  a  sacri- 


T 


•JSltmi 


ENT. 

ed  the  foil 
nr  barning 
r  the  weari- 

)re  grievous 
we  all  are 
groan, — the 
I  it.     (Heb. 
r  childhood 
r  own  hands 
aping  it  up, 
looking  up 
igst  us  hath 
B  of  this  sad 
I  tortu^-e  of  a 
y  favor,  and, 
(,  the  entii-e 
\\\n  the  soul  1 
if  a  gulf  was 
een  our  spirit 
in  our  attach* 
and    adopted 
18  to  surpass ; 
'  our  case  as 
And  yet,  my 
e  in  this  most 
had  in  view, 
troubled  and 
n,  all  ye  that 
with  iniquity, 
Him  at  that 
9  made  a  sacri- 


ON  COMING  TO  JB8U8  FOR   REFRBSHMENT.        149 

flee  for  sin,  and  has  laid  upon  Him  by  God  the  ini- 
quities  of  us  all. 

Have  you  already  felt  within  you  the  sorrows  of  a 
loving  repentance ;  have  you  already  been  at  His  feet, 
and  washed  them  with  many  teai-s,  and  poured  out  on 
them  the  precious  ointment  of  holy  love  ?    Have  you 
heard,  through  the  voice  of  His  minister,  the  consoling 
words,  that  much  hath  been  forgiven  you,  and  do  you 
feel  within  you  the  blessed  assurance,  founded  upon 
His  first  promises,  that  you  are  a  forgiven  sinner, 
though  one  feeling  that  much  remains  undone,  to  per- 
fect the  great  work  of  salvation  ?    Come  boldly  for- 
ward ;  your  place  is  in  His  chosen  train,  and  near  His 
cross,  with  her  whom  you  have  imitated,  with  the 
centurion,  and  those  who  struck  their  breasts  in  com- 
punction at  His  death,  and  nearer  still  with  the  disci- 
ple of  love  and  the  Virgin-mother.    There,  under  the 
shadow  of  that  tree,  and  of  your  beloved  that  hangs 
thereon,  in  calm  and  feeling  meditation  on  the  graces 
purchased  for  you,  and  the  charity  displayed,  you  shall 
find  sufficient  strength  in  your  weakness,  to  ripen  your 
converaion  into  perseverance,  and  to  inflame  your  luke- 
warmness  into  burning  love. 

But  alas  I  does  thy  conscience  still'  reproach  thee 
that  thou  art  unforgiven,  and  does  thy  courage  fail 
thee  to  undertake  the  awful  work  of  repentance  1  Art 
still  staggering  under  the  weight  of  the  flesh  and  its 
lusts,  and  sinking  under  their  load,  as  under  that  of  a 
most  heavy  cross  ?  Art  thou  not  thus,  as  yet,  like  one 
of  the  evil-doera  with  whom  Jesus  was  reckoned? 
Away  then  with  thee  unto  Calvary,  and  beai-  thither 
this  burden  of  thy  sins,  and  be  crucified  to  them  be- 


J 


i 


160        ON   COMINO   TO  JESUS   FOR   REFnESIIMENT. 

side  Him.    Stretch  forth  thine  ftrms  in  earnest  snppli- 
cation,  and  let  thy  love  nail  thee  to  the  cross.    There 
transfer  to  thyself,  for  a  moment  at  least,  in  mind,  the 
pangs  and  tortures  which  He  endured  for  thy  salva- 
tion ;  count  the  wounds  and  bruises  which  should  have 
been  thine,  for  they  were  inflicted  for  thee;  feel  if 
thou  canst  the  overflowing  bitterness  of  sorrow  and 
hatred  towards  sin  which  filled  His  breast,  the  aban- 
donment by  God,  the  forlorn  desolation  of  soul,  the 
universal  unhappinesa  which  overclouds  Him,  and 
there,  hanging  as  it  were  at  His  side,  read  the  hand- 
writing which  was  against  thee  nailed  upon  His  cross, 
read  His  title  of  thy  Kedeemer  inscribed  above  His 
head,  read  the  decree  of  thy  forgiveness  traced  by  His 
bloody  diadem  upon  His  brow,  engraven  by  the  sol- 
dier's lance  upon  His  heart,  and  see  if  thou  canst 
longer  doubt  that  there  is  pardon  even  for  thee,  if 
with  the  penitent  thief  thou  wilt  cry  out  to  Him  in 
that  hour,  making  confession  and  acknowledging  thy 
guilt,  even  according  to  His  appointed  ordinances,  and 
casting  thyself  with  unbounded  confidence  upon  His 
mercy,  sole  fountain  of  reconciliation  and  forgiveness. 
And  amen,  I  say  unto  thee,  in  what  day  thou  shalt 
thus  come  unto  Jesus,  thou  too  shalt  be  with  Him  in 
an  inward  paradise  of  peace  and  refreshment. 

And  ye,  few  indeed,  and  chosen,  who  have  long 
since  found  in  Jesus  relief  from  all  the  world's  trou- 
bles ;  whose  minds,  settled  and  at  peace  in  Him,  know- 
not  the  anjdeties  and  perplexities  of  religious  doubts ; 
who  trust  in  Him,  that  the  load  of  your  sins  has  been 
taken  off,  and  that  your  course  of  virtue  is  regular  and 
steady,  is  there  for  you  no  further  refreshment  ia 


JL^ 


J 


ENT. 

nest  snppli- 
)89.    There 
1  mind,  the 
'  thy  salva- 
ihoold  have 
lee;  feel  if 
Borrow  and 
;,  the  aban- 
[)f  soul,  the 
Him,  and 
d  the  hand- 
1  His  cross, 
above  His 
iced  by  His 
by  the  sol- 
thou  canst 
for  thee,  if 
to  Him  in 
ledging  thy 
inances,and 
e  upon  His 
forgiveness. 
'  thoa  shalt 
rith  Him  ia 
}nt. 

)  have  long 
rorld's  trou- 
1  Him,  knovir 
ions  doubts ; 
ins  has  beea 
regalar  and 
reshment  in 


ON   COMING   TO  JESUS  FOR   UKFUESIIMENT. 


151 


Jesns  ?  Oh,  surely,  there  is ;  for  the  tear  is  not  yet 
wiped  from  your  eye.  Ye,  too,  have  yet  your  burden 
to  bear ;  the  flesh  is  a  load  upon  your  spirit,  which 
clogs  its  flight  towards  God,  and  makes  you  long  that 
it  be  dissolved.  You,  likewise,  then,  must  come  to 
Jesus  for  your  refreshment,  but  to  Jesus,  now  no  lon- 
ger pei-secuted  end  suffering,  but  risen  from  the  dead 
and  in  glory,  sitting  at  the  right  hand  of  His  Father, 
Thither  you  most  already  ascend  in  spirit,  and  there 
dwell ;  thither  must  your  sighs  and  longings  daily 
1188 ;  thitherward  must  your  looks  be  turned,  as  the 
captive  prophets'  were  to  the  earthly  Jerusalem.  In 
the  contemplation  of  that  glory,  now  enjoyed  by  your 
beloved,  ye  may  well  forget  the  teasing  claims  of  sel- 
fish  interests ;  in  the  view  of  that  calm  ocean-like 
blessedness  wherein  His  just  are  lost,  ye  may  drown 
the  impertinent  tumults  of  all  worldly  uneasiness ;  in 
the  sight  of  that  tenantless  over-hanging  crown,  which 
your  humble  hope  tells  you  may  be  reserved  for  you, 
ye  may,  indeed,  feed  unto  fullness  the  richest,  and 
j)urest,  and  holiest  energies  of  your  souls.  And  when 
the  end  shall  come,  then  lift  up  your  heads,  for  your 
salvation  is  at  hand.  Not  for  you  is  the  last  hour  one 
of  clamor  to  rouse  the  sleeping  virgins,  nor  of  despair 
to  find  your  lamps  untrimmed.  It  is,  as  Job  describes 
it,  the  wished-for  evening  of  the  laborer's  day,  the  re- 
membrance of  toil  and  travail  finished,  the  casting  on 
the  ground  of  load  and  incumbrance,  and  the  imme- 
diate prospect  of  rest  and  home.  Not  for  you  will  the 
invitation  of  Jesus  then  sound  as  one  of  excitement  to 
the  laggard,  or  of  encouragement  to  the  faint-hearted, 
or  of  animation  to  the  desponding,  or  of  promise  to 


J 


w 


152    ON  COMING  TO  JKSUB  FOR  REFRESHMENT. 

the  diligent ;  it  must  he  as  a  watchword  between  Ilim 
and  you  on  the  confines  of  your  two  worlds,  a  signal 
repeated  from  one  to  the  other,  at  that  last  stra.t  pass 
into  His  kingdom,  well  understood  and  welcome  unto 
both.     "For  tiie  spirit  and  the  bride  say,  come :  and 
he  that  hearetb,  let  him  say,  come."    Then  will  He 
once  more  say,  "  Surely,  I  come  quickly,"  and  ye  sball 
reply  even  as'  the  gate  is  unbarred  before  you,    Amen, 
come.  Lord  Jesus,  come."    Then,  at  length  "  your  Joy 
shall  be  complete,  and  your  joy  no  man  shall  take 
from  you."    (Apoc.  x.vii.)  , 

Let  us  then  all,  the  afflicted  and  the  perplexed,  the 
sinner  and  the  righteous,  "come  and  taste  how  sweet 
is  the  Lord,  and  how  blessed  is  the  man  that  hopeth 
in  Him."    (Ps.  xxxiii.  9.)    When  on  earth  He  allowed 
publicans  and  sinners  to  approach  Him  so  familiarly 
as  to  bring  censure  on  Himself;   once,  when  little 
children  would  have  drawn  nigh  unto  Him,  and  His 
disciples  would  have  withheld  them,  He  rebuked 
them  for  it;  when  the  Pharisee  was  shocked  at  His 
allowing  Himself  to  be  approached  and  touched  by  a 
woman  notoriously  infamous  in  the  city,  He  com- 
inended.her  boldness,  and  received  her  into  special  fa- 
vor.    Thus  did  He  show  that  none  is  excluded  from 
His  all-embracing  mercy  and  kindness,  and  that  His 
invitation  to  all  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  is  not 
a  mere  display  of  liberality,  but  the  true  manifestation 
of  sincere  and  gracious  love. 

But  how  shall  we  come  to  Thee,  O  blessed  Jesus  I 
unless  Thy  Father,  who  sent  Thee,  draw  us  unto  Thee  \ 
(Jo.  vi.  44.)  Our  desires  are  too  faint— our  powers 
too  w^,  ever,  of  themselves,  to  reach  Thee.    Thy 


■Miiwi*i*i'wwwim« 


r 


tween  Ilim 
h,  a  signal 
Btrnit  piiss 
Icome  unto 
come :  and 
an  will  He 
ind  ye  slinll 
iu, "  Amen, 
I  "  your  joy 
I  sliall  take 

pplexed,  the 
I  how  sweet 
that  hopeth 
He  allowed 
o  familiarly 
when  little 
[im,  and  His 
He  rebuked 
>cked  at  His 
x)uched  by  a 
ty,  He  com- 
ito  special  fa- 
deluded  from 
ind  that  His 
laden,  is  not 
[uanifestatioQ 


Clf   COMINO   TO   JE8U8   FOB   RKFKESIIMKNT.         158 

blessing,  then,  be  upon  our  unworthy  efforts ;  a  bless- 
ing upon  the  lips  of  hira  that  teacheth,  and  upon  the 
heart>»  of  them  that  hearken ;  a  blessing  upon  Thy 
word,  and  upon  the  soil  which  shall  receive  it;  a 
blessing  upon  our  beginning,  and  upon  our  consum- 
mation ;  a  blessing  upon  our  seeking  and  following 
Thee  here,  and  upon  our  finding  and  reachiflg  Thee 
hereafter ;  a  blessing  upon  our  warfare,  and  a  blessing 
upon  our  crown— in  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of 
the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost.    Amen. 


>les3ed  Jesus ! 
is  unto  Thee  I 
—our  powers 
I  Thee.    Thy 


P 


■TOaBaBstsR* 


f 


SERMON  VIII. 
9U  iawlott.* 

JoBV,  tUI.  4a,  M. 
"Jem  Mid  to  Uwm Whkh  of  you  will  cooTlct  me  of  iln." 

This  Sunday,  my  brethren,  opens  the  annual  com- 
memr  ation  of  our  dear  Redeemer's  sorrowful  passion. 
It  commences  a  week  of  preparation  to  the  more  sol- 
emn procession,  through  which  His  Church  will  soon 
accompany  Him  in  spirit,  from  Gethsemani  to  Jerusa- 
lem,  and  from  Jerusalem  to  Calvary.    It  therefore 
begins  gradually  to  initiate  us  into  the  deep  and  un- 
searchable mystery  of  our  redemption,  which  forms 
the  ground  of  our  hopes  and  the  object  of  our  belief; 
by  the  important  and  interesting  appeal  made  by  our 
Saviour  in  this  morning's  Gospel :    "  Vhich  of  you 
will  convict  me  of  sin  1 "    He  is  just  going  to  be  slain 
as  the  victim  of  sin,  and  yet  He  openly  protests  His 
immunity  from  it:  He  is  soon  to  be  treated  as  a  cul- 
prit by  the  justice  of  His  heavenly  Father,  and  He 
seems,  in  this  question,  to  appeal  from  this  sentence  to 
the  conviction  of  His  hearere,  when  He  defies  them  to 
allege  against  Him  one  of  those  offences  for  which  He 
is  doomed,  and  justly  doomed,  to  suffer.     Yet,  my 

•  Delivered  oa  PaMlon-Soaday,  1830. 


"■mtm*"'^ 


•«ta 


SbrUt  in 


it  me  of  ila." 

annnal  com- 
wful  pnssion. 
he  more  sol- 
•ch  will  soon 
,ni  to  Jenwa- 
It  therefore 
ieep  and  un- 
which  forms 
►f  our  belief; 
made  by  our 
'hich  of  you 
ig  to  be  slain 
■  protests  His 
ited  as  a  cul- 
ther,  and  He 
is  sentence  to 
defies  them  to 
for  which  He 
ir.     Yet,  my 


SUFFKlUNflS  or  CimWT  IN  nw  PASSION.         l.W 

l)rethien,  there  can  be  no  contra<Hction  between  the 
JMtice  of  the  Father  and  the  appeal  of  the  Son ;  for 
thoy  are  one,  and  can  be  but  of  one  v/iil  Both  there- 
fore  are  truth?,  and,  when  united,  they  conmr  to  form 
the  hidden  mystery  of  redemption. 

It  is  my  wish  to  engage  your  attention  for  their 
consideration,  as  both  demonstrated  in  the  painful  suiv 
vey  of  the  close  of  our  Lord's  life.  Jesus  by  His  pas- 
sion vindicated  from  the  slightest  charge  of  even 
venial  transgression ;  Jesus  in  His  passion,  justly  bear- 
ing the  combined  punishment  due  to  the  sins  of  the 
whole  world :  these  are  the  two  conflicting  portraits 
of  the  world's  lledeemer  which  I  wish  to  sketch  for 
your  edification,  ufid  thus  represent  to  you  in  its  full 
grandeur,  that  most  astonishing  device  of  Almighty 
goodness,  the  innocent  Lamb  of  God,  who  y«t  should 
bear  the  sins  of  the  world. 

It  had  been  foretold  by  king  David,  that  his  great 
descendant  should  be  treated  as  "  the  reproach  of  men 
and  the  outcast  of  the  people"  (Pa.  xxi.  1)  :  and  such 
He  appears,  in  the  most  aggravated  manner,  in  the 
history  of  His  passion.  Betrayed  by  one  of  His  apos- 
tles, denied  by  His  greatest  friend,  abandoned  by  all 
His  disciples,  accused  by  His  own  people,  judged  to 
die  by  the  rulere  and  priests  of  His  nation,  con- 
demned to  the  cross  by  the  Roman  governor,  outraged 
with  impunity  by  the  vilest  of  men,  insulted  publicly 
by  the  flagrant  criminals  with  whom  He  was  associa- 
ted in  death ;  surely,  any  one  who  beheld  this  specta- 
cle, must  have  concluded  that  all  those  discordant 
characters  could  never  have  conspired,  in  pitiless  per- 
secution, agairst  any  being  stamped  with  the  human 


r 


1 


t 

166  ON   TUB  CIIARAOTEIi   AKD   BUFKEBINfli 

flirnre,  unless  k.  had  been  the  mo«t  fbgUious  ami  re 
mor««l««  ot  hi.  race.     In  fact,  «iy  brethren,  thi*  f<>nu9 
the  «canaal  of  th«  cro«.,  "  to  the  J«W8  a  «tumljh.ig. 
block  and  to  the  Gentile*  foolishnew;"  and  alas!  the 
apoHtle  might  have  added,  to  modern  unbeliet  a  bla«. 
phemy  and  a  scoflf.     But  to  the  t.  u«' Christian  tlm 
Icene  brings  triumph  and  joy;    for  he  sees,  in  it  all, 
the  noblest  victory  of  Him  whom  he  reveres,  over  the 
malice  of  man  and  the  frailty  of  his  uature,  as  he 
rea^ls  at  every  step,  the  attestations  of  his  adversaries 
to  His  spotless  character,  and  views  the  sublime  per- 
fection  of  it,  exhibited  in  Ilia  own  conduct. 

For  three  years  the  Son  of  man  had  exercised  His 
mission  in  every  portion  of  the  land,  from  Dan  to  Ber- 
aabee,  and  from  the  coast  of  Tyre  to  the  parts  beyond 
the  Jordan.    At  every  step  Ilis  conduct  had  been  nar- 
rowly  watched  by    vigilant   and  keen  adversaries; 
their  emissaries  had  beset  Him  with  ensnanug  qnes- 
tious,  had  assailed  Him  alternately  with  flattery  or 
abuse;  by  turns,  the  Pharisees,  the  Sadducees,  and  the 
Herodiaus,  had  employed  their  wily  arts  against  Him 
to  destroy  their  common  reprover.    His  political  prin- 
ciples had  been  tried,  as  on  the  quest u>.    of  tribute; 
His  religious  opinions  searched,  as  in  the  inquiry  on 
divoree  and  the  punishment  of  adultery.     He,  on  His 
part,  had  acted  openly  and  without  disguise;  had 
Lght  in  the  Temple,  had  debated  in  the  synagogue 
and  healed  in  the  streets  and  public  places.      He  had 
mingled  in  every  class  of  society ;  had  joined  the  pu^ 
licans  and  the  poor  at  their  humble  repast,  oi-ieclined 
at  the  more  sumptuous  tabic  of  the  rich  Phamee. 
He  had  been  placed  in  the  most  opposite  situations: 


r 


)U9  and  re- 
thw  forms 
ntumbling* 
,  alas !  the 
•lief  a  blaii- 
ii-isiian  Uu* 
18,  ill  it  uU, 
es,  over  the 
ture,  as  he 
adversarita 
ublioie  per* 


or  CHJl»T  tV   HW   TkMlOV. 


167 


:erci8e< 


I  His 
Dan  to  Ber- 
ftits  beyond 
id  been  nar- 
adveraaries; 
larhig  q'les- 

flattery  or 
sees,  and  the 
against  Him 
olitical  prin- 

of  tribute; 

inquiiy  on 

He,  on  His 
isguise;  had 
i  synagogue, 
».  He  had 
ned  the  pub* 
t,  or  reclined 
ch  Phaiisee. 
e  situations: 


now  seized  to  Im!  King  tgainHt  His  will,  now  awailed 
with  stones,  or  dragge(l  towards  th«  brow  of  the  hill 
Ui  be  cant  headlong  from  it.      Do  I  wish  to  insinuate 
that  thn»ugh  all  the»«  triaN  His  character  hud  never 
l,«.<!n  assailed  i     Quito  on  the  contrary :    whoever  ad- 
hered  to   Him   had  bee^    sohinuly    exconimuniemted 
(Jo.  ix.) ;  He  had  b*'en  publicly  denounced  as  a  tranj*- 
gressor  of  the  law,  and  a  contemner  of  the  8»bbath  ; 
and  His  very  miradeH  had  been  in  His  presence  attrilj- 
uted  to  the  co-operation  of  Beelzebub.     Now  at  length 
the  time  is  come,  when,  through  the  treachery  of  His 
apiwtlc,  He  is  in  the  hands  of  these  foes ;  now  13  their 
hour  and  the  power  of  darkness.     They  have  j.Iot ted 
His  death  and  have  determined  upon  cloaking  it  under 
the  forms  of  justice.    Borne  charge  ih  necessary  against 
Him :  and  we  may  therefore  exp«ct  to  hear  an  indict- 
menT  of  real  or  pretended  offences,  collected  through 
this  long  coui-se  of  uncefti»ing  investigation,  and  em- 
bodied into  at  least  a  Bi)ecious  form  of  accusation,  in 
the  frequent  couicils  held  by  the  entire  Sanhedrim. 
(Matt  xxvi.  8,  4.)     He  stonds  then  before  them,  on 
the  last  night  of  His  life,  without  an  advocate  or  a 
friend,  to  hear,  in  silent  meekness,  their  charges  against 
Him.      Let  us  watch  the  course  of  this  interesting 

inquiiy. 

The  accusations  are  many,  and  witnesses  are  not 
wanting  to  support  them.  Yet  all  were  such  as  even 
this  partial  tribunal  could  not  admit:  "they  found 
not,  though  many  false  witnesses  had  come  in"  (Matt. 
xxvi.  60)  ;  "  their  evidence  did  not  agree."  (Mar.  xiv. 
66.)  Was  there  then  not  one  of  His  numerous  mi- 
racles against  which  the  charge  of  imposture  could  be 


I  W  IWI  !■»>«*' 


158 


ON  TIIK  CIURACTTKR   AND   BlFrKKINOt 


artfully  Inslntiate*! ;  wm  ther«  no  doctrine  whuh 
could  bfl  ingeniously  distorted  into  a  contempt  for  the 
Iftw ;  no  action  which  could  be  niisrepreseutcd  into  a 
tran^grewion  of  public  or  private  <luty  I 

Instead  of  any  charge  of  tliis  sort,  after  hearing 
and  rejecting  numerous  depositions,  the  council  is 
compelled  to  receive  only  one  which  exhibits  a  shadow 
of  truth.  Two  witnesses  attest  that  He  had  said, 
«'  I  am  able  to  destroy  the  Temple  of  God,  and  in 
three  days  to  rebuild  it."  (Matt.  61.)  From  the  ac- 
cusation  thus  selected,  we  may  judge  of  the  futility 
of  those  which  were  discarded.  It  coniista  in  an 
altered  vewion,  and  palpable  misapplication  of  an 
allegorical  prophecy  of  Hia  resurrection.  Asked  to 
reply  to  this  accusation,  our  blessed  Redeemer  pre- 
serves a  dignified  silence :  and  this  silence  proves  a 
sufficient  confutation.  His  very  enemies  become 
ashamed  of  the  charge;  and  finding  that  they 
have  even  yet  no  grounds  to  slander  His  char- 
acter, the  high-priest  rises,  and  solemnly  adjures 
Him  in  the  name  of  the  living  God,  if  He  be  the 
Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God.  He  answers  in 
the  affirmative;  the  high-priest  rends  his  garments 
and  exclaims :  *"  He  hath  blasphemed.  What  further 
need  have  we  now  of  witnesses  1  E  hold  now  you 
have  heai*d  the  blasphemy.  What  think  you  ?  But 
they  answering  said :  He  is  gnilty  of  death."     (Matt 

66.) 

Sach  then  is  the  charge  upon  which,  at  length,  they 
have  agreed  to  rest  the  sentence  of  condemnation. 
Fi'om  this  preliminary  trial  before  Annas  and  Cai- 
phas,  follow  them  to  the  tribunal  of  Pilate,  where 


MMHIMNar*«MMMMMl 


r 


Jte. 


rine  whK'h 
nipt  for  tlio 
)ut«d  into  a 

ter  hcnring 

council  itt 

A  a  Hha<low^ 

e  hnd  Raid, 

lod,  and  in 

rom  the  ao 

the  futility 

gists  in  on 

ition  of  an 

AHked  to 

leemer  pr«- 

ce  proves  a 

ies    become 

that    they 

His   char- 

nly  adjures 

He  be  the 

answers  in 

is  garments 

/^hat  further 

id  now  you 

you  ?     But 

,h."     (Matt. 

length,  they 
ndemnation. 
as  and  Gai- 
ilate,  where 


or   CIIRWT   I!<    llfM   PAMIOV. 


150 


the  rwult  of  the  night's  dfliberation  has  to  !>«  urgod 
against  their  psianner.     t)f  what  crifn«  i*  H"  now 
accused  I     Of  having  excited  contvinpt  againnt  the 
temple  of  God,  or  suggested  iU  tlfstruction  ?     Or  per- 
haps of  blasphemy  in  calling  Ilimnolf  the  Christ  tho 
Son  of  the  living  (Jod  i    Nothing  of  tho  sort.    Though 
theHfl  were  the  only  accusations  ujwn  which  the  av 
scidbly  hud  vot«»l  Hlra  guilty  of  <lenth  but  a  few 
honm  before,  they  are  not  even  mentioned  now  be- 
fore the  governor.     They  have  changetl  their  ground 
once  more,  and  that  in  the  mwt  infamous  manner. 
"  We  have  found  this  man  perverting  our  nation,  and 
forbidding  to  give  tribute  to  Ctnsar,  and  saying  He  is 
Christ  the  King."     (Luke,  x.xiii.  2.)    "If  thou  re- 
lease  this  man  thou  art  no  friend  of  Cujsar's ;  for  who- 
soever   raaketh    himself    a    king,    speaketh    against 
Cffisar."    (Jo.  xix.  13.)    "Truly  iniquity  hath  lied 
again?  t  itself."    The  Jews  and  their  rulers  were  anx- 
iously expecting  their  Messias  ns  a  great  Sovereign 
and  universal  conqueror,  who  was  to  crush  the  diadem 
of  the  Cffisars  beneath  the  sceptre  of  David  ;  and  yet 
they  pronounce  the  very  desire  to  do  so,  a  crime 
worthy  of  death.     But  even  this  new  charge  is  amply 
confuted.    After  inquiry  into  the  nature  of  the  sov- 
ereignty  claimed  by  the  accused,  Pilate  returns  to  the 
Jews  and  answers,  "  I  find  no  cause  in  Him."    (Jo. 
xviii.  88.)     "  No  nor  yet  Herod ;  for  I  sent  you  to 
him,  and  behold  nothing  worthy  of  death  is  done  to 
Him."    (Luke,  xxiii.  15.) 

Such  is  the  result  of  this  keen  investigation.  Ac- 
cusers all  in  their  turns  rejected  by  His  own  enemies ; 
charge  after  charge  discarded  by  them  as  untenable, 


1 


iMWWll— UMI*  ■  - 


-:^ 


160 


ON   THE  CHARACTER  AND  SUFFEUINOS 


■ 


and  the  last  fully  disproved  by  the  judge  whom  they 
had  chosen ;  sentence  pronounced  by  him  with  a  pro- 
testation that  it  fell  upon  the  innocent ;  this  is  the 
process  of  the  Son  of  Man.  And  while  His  enemies 
are  thus  baffled  in  their  search  after  some  plausible 
accusation,  their  victim  challenges  them  earnestly  to 
the  inquiry,  and  calls  upon  them  to  collect  every  evi- 
dence. When  they  ask  Him  "  of  His  disciples  and 
doctrines,"  He  answers,  "  I  have  spoken  openly  to  the 
world ;  I  have  always  taught  in  the  synagogue,  and 
in  the  Temple,  whither  all  the  Jews  resoi-t  Why 
askest  thou  Me  ?  Ask  them  who  have  heard  what  I 
have  spoken  to  them :  behold  they  know  what  things 
I  have  said."     (Jo.  xviii.  20,  21.) 

This  want  of  evidence  could  not  arise  from  the  dif- 
ficulty  of  procuring  it ;  and  it  surely  was  not  from  the 
faintest  lingering  of  a  sense  of  delicacy  in  their  minds, 
that  the  unjust  adversaries  could  neglect  the  witnesses 
who  were  at  hand.  Their  whole  conduct  shows  them 
incapable  of  such  a  feeling.  Crowds  of  unlettered 
and  timid  women  have  followed  Him  from  Galilee ; 
they  are  initiated  in  His  doctrines,  and  have  witnessed 
His  actions :  how  valuable  might  their  testimony  be, 
when  elicited  by  the  crafty  subtlety,  or  extorted  by 
the  imposing  authority,  of  those  who  sat  in  the  chair 
of  Moses  I  His  disciples  have  fled,  and  deserted  Him; 
they  have  proved  their  timidity  or  rather  their  coward- 
ice :  why  are  they  not  seized,  and  summoned  to  de- 
pose against  Him  ?  Peter  is  in  the  hall  with  the  ser- 
vants of  the  high-priest.  He  has  denied  his  Master 
upon  the  harmless  accusation  of  a  maid,  and  in  the 
face  of  one  who  had  seen  him  in  the  garden :  how 


•Sam 


n 


■iin'iiii  nil'  ''ripWh 


OS 

whom  they 
with  a  pro- 

this  is  the 
[is  eDernies 
B  plausible 
larnestly  to 

every  evi- 
jciples  and 
enly  to  the 
kgogue,  and 
loi-t  Why 
sard  what  I 
,vhat  things 

om  the  dif- 
ot  from  the 
heir  minds, 
le  witnesses 
jhows  them 

unlettered 
)m  Galilee ; 
'e  witnessed 
jtimoay  be, 
jxtorted  by 
in  the  chair 
lertedHim; 
leir  coward- 
)ned  to  de- 
ath the  ser- 

his  Master 
and  in  the 
arden:  how 


OF   CHRIST   IN   HIS   PASSION. 


161 


much  greater  terror  might  be  struck  into  him  by  the 
threatening  adjurations  of  the  high-priest,  speaking  m 
the  minister  of  God,  and  as  the  prgan  of  supreme  au- 
thority;  and  how  easily  from  denial  might  he  be 
forced  into  accusation  1     But,  above  all,  where  is  the 
traitor  Judas  ?    The  man  who  could  betray  his  friend, 
after  having  dipped  his  hand  into  the  same  dish  with 
Him,  an  action  in  his  country  equivalent  to  a  solemn 
oath  of  perpetual  fidelity— that  man,  surely,  will  not 
hesitate  t(    accuse  Him.    The  traitor,  who  sold  his 
Master  and  Benefactor  for  thirty  pieces  of  silver,  will 
not  scruple,  were  it  only  for  his  own  credit,  to  bring 
some  charge  which  may  justify  or  palliate  his  deed,  in 
the  face  of  the  world.     Instead  of  this,  he  restores 
the  price,  of  blood,  protests  in  the  face  of  the  tribunal 
that  he  has  betrayed  the  innocent,  and  hangs  himself 
in  despair.    The  enemies  of  Christ,  then,  must  well 
have  known,  that  even  from  such  witnesses  as  these, 
not  the  slightest  accusation  was  to  be  hoped.     Oh 
surely,  of  all  the  children  of  men,  none  other  could 
have  passed  through  such  a  trial  from  the  hands  of 
Bworn  enemies,  with  a  character  not  only  unwounded 
by  the  imputation  of  crime,  but  even  unsullied  by  the 
breath  of  slander. 

Suppose  that  this  iniquitous  tribunal  could  have  ar- 
raigned  their  great  law-giver,  the  pride  and  boast  of 
the  nation,  Moses,  and  had  determined  upon  his  con- 
viction. Of  him  they  might  have  said,  that  he  had 
acted  with  apparent  cruelty  to  his  sister  Mary ;  that 
he  had  reduced  the  people  to  distress ;  that  under  his 
government  they  had  been  nearly  exterminated  by 
plagues,  the  sword  of  the  Levites,  and  the  bite  of  fiery 
11 


■? 


m'TiW 


!22S 


.i;=C 


16t 


ON  THE  CHARACTER  AND  SUFFERINGS 


''  :- 


serpents ;  that  his  opposere  had  been  devoted  to  ruth- 
less destruction,  and  that  he  himself  had  disobeyed 
the  Divine  commandment  at  the  rock.    However  false, 
some  charge  might  have  been  made  out,  bearing  at 
least  the  semblance  of  accusation.    But  Jesus  had  gone 
about  only  doing  good;  had  cured  every  disease,  had 
fed  the  multitudes,  had  conferred  benefits  on  His  very 
enemies;  and  when  assaulted  with  stones,  of  all  the 
sons  of  men.  He  alone  could  boldly  ask:  "Many  good 
works  I  have  shown  you  from  my  Father:  for  which 
of  those  works  do  you  stone  me?"   (Jo.  x.  32.)     "If, 
then,  in  the  green  wood,  they  did  these  things,  what 
would  they  have  done  in  the  dry?"    Even  the  law- 
giver  of  the  Jews,  must  have  perished  under  the  doom 
of  such  a  court,  with  the  name  at  l  ast  of  some  crime 
written  upon  his  cross:  Jesus  alone  could  die  through 
its  sentence,  with  only  His  most  glorious  title  blazoned 
over  His  head. 

"With  justice,  then,  could  our  Redeemer  make  His 
appeal  to  His  very  enemies :    "  Which  of  you  will  con- 
vict  Me  of  sin  ?"  and  it  must  be  a  subject  of  dehght  to 
His  faithful  followers  to  find  that  His  appeal  was  fully 
justified  by  these  enemies  themselves.    But  if  from 
their  conduct  we  revert  to  His,  we  shall  find  that  this 
challenge  fell  far  short  of  what  He  might  truly  have 
demanded;  for  we  shall  there  see  a  character,  every 
trait  of  which  radiates  with  a  perfection,  not  only  un- 
attainable,  but  inconceivable  by  human  weakness.    It 
is  adversity  indeed,  that  gives  the  last  finish  to  the 
moral  portrait  of  man ;  yet,  after  all,  it  can  only  mark 
strongly  His  nobler  features,  and  develope  an  expres- 
sion  of  dignity  and  fortitude.     But  adversity,  my 


•  T  v.-nTVfimfnmmmim0 


09 

ted  to  ruth- 
1  diaobeyed 
wever  false, 
,  bearing  at 
U3  had  gone 
disease,  had 
on  His  very 
3,  of  all  the 
'  Many  good 
• :  for  which 
r.  32.)     "If, 
things,  what 
ven  the  law- 
er  the  doom 
:  some  crime 
die  through 
itle  blazoned 

er  make  His 
you  will  con- 
of  delight  to 
»eal  was  fully 
But  if  from 
find  that  this 
bt  truly  have 
iracter,  every 
not  only  un- 
veakness.  It 
finish  to  the 
an  only  mark 
ipe  an  expres- 
idversity,  my 


OF  CimWT   IN   HIS   PASSION. 


168 


I 

P 


brethren,  would  be  an  extenuating  term  to  express 
the  furnaee  of  tribulation  through  which  our  Redeemer 
passed;  dignity  and  fortitude,  would  be  but  mean 
characteristics  of  that  inexpressible  quality  of  soul 
with  which,  lie  endured.  It  is  not  necessary  that  I 
should  enumerate  here  the  varied  torments  whic.  Tie 
underwent ;  they  are  familiar  to  your  minds,  and  we 
shall  have  to  dwell  sufficiently  upon  this  painful  topic 
in  the  second  part  of  my  discourse.  At  present  I  only 
wish  you  to  contemplate  the  manner  in  which  they 
were  supported,  by  contrasting  it  with  every  species 
of  endurance  wherewith  the  world  has  ever  been  ac- 
quainted ;  to  see  whether  the  perfection  of  our  nature 
alone  could  have  possibly  attained  to  it. 

It  was  a  fortitude,  for  I  must  call  it  by  the  name  of 
some  human  virtue,  which  did  not  rebult  from  strength 
of  nerve,  or  hardihood  of  constitution.  The  Son  of 
Man  had  not  been  trained  to  practices  that  confer 
thf^se  qualities :  He  had  always  exhibited  a  tender  and 
yielding  disposition.  He  had  been  seen  to  weep,  now 
over  the  death  of  a  friend  (Jo.  xi.  35),  now  over  the  yet 
distant  desolation  of  His  country.  (Luke,  xix.  41.) 
When  His  life  had  been  attempted.  He  had  prudently 
escaped,  instead  of  facing  the  danger;  when  there  was 
conspiracy  against  Him,  He  walked  alone  and  trusted 
not  Himself  to  them.  Hence,  on  the  present  occasion, 
He  offers  no  resistance,  and  yet  His  enemies  dread  to 
seize  Him ;  He  uses  no  menaces  nor  defiances,  and  yet 
His  persecutors  are  baffled.  He  conquers  by  submis* 
sion,  He  wearies  their  cruelty  by  endurance. 

It  is  not  the  courage  of  the  philosophers.    Often 
has  the  impious  parallel  been  made  between  the  most 


^^^^^y^^j^^|U#(« 


mam 


164  ON  THE   CIIAKACTEB   AND  8UFFEK1N0S 

celobmted  man  of  that  class  in  his  last  moments,  and 
the  Saviour  of  the  world  in  Ills  passion.     But  what  a 
contrast  in   their  situation  I    The  one  drinks  with 
grace  the  poisonous  drauglit,  conscious  that,  however 
he  may  be  hated  and  envied  by  a  few,  the  attention 
of  iiis  fellow-citizens  rests  on  him  with  reverence,  to 
catch  his  last  words,  and  that  of  his  disciples,  with  af- 
fectioM,  to  inhale  the  last  breath  of  their  master.    The 
other  drains  to  the  dregs  a  chalice  of  bitter  suffering, 
such  as  never  before  or  since  was  prepared  for  any 
human  creature,  scorned,  outraged,  and  insulted  by 
the  whole  of  His  nation,  abandoned,  denied,  and  be- 
trayed  by  His  own  dearest  followers.     What  a  con- 
trast  in  their  manner!    The  one,  supported  by  his 
numerous  friends,  defends  himself  with  earnestness  and 
ingenuity,  perhaps  even  in  the  sacrifice  of  his  real 
principles,  and  beguiles  his  last  moments,   by  the 
cheering  speculations  of  his  profession.     The  other 
stands  mute  through  His  various  trials,  with  every 
temptation  of  innocence  to  make  a  triumphant  de- 
fence ;  and  preserves  an  unabated  equanimity  amidst 
the  desolation  and  abandonment  of  His  cruel  death. 
And  yet  His  silence  convinced  Pilate  more  than  the 
studied  eloquence  of  the  other  did  his  judges ;  yet,  the 
calm  resignation  of  His  agony  forced  from  the  lips  of 
the  hardy  centurion  and  the  prejudiced  multitude, 
that  "  verily  this  was  the  Son  of  God ;"  while  the  dra- 
matic exit  of  His  rival  could  only  procure  for  him  the 
praise  that  he  had  died  like  a  philosopher. 

In  fine,  my  brethren,  it  waa  not  the  fortitude  of  the 
maityrs.  They  were  supported  in  their  torments  by 
the  example  of  constancy  and  love,  which  He  first 


'**♦ 
^4^ 


INUS 

aoraents,  and 
But  what  a 
drinks  with 
liat,  however 
^he  attention 
reverence,  to 
pies,  with  af- 
naster.  The 
ter  suffering, 
ired  for  any 
insulted  by 
tied,  and  be- 
iVhat  a  con- 
>rted  by  his 
'nestness  and 
of  his  real 
nts,  by  the 
The  other 
with  every 
mphant  de- 
mity  amidst 
cruel  death, 
re  than  the 
:es ;  yet,  the 
;  the  lips  of 
I  multitude, 
lile  the  dra- 
for  him  the 

itade  of  the 
orments  by 
sh  He  first 


OF   01IRI8T   IN  ma   PASSIOlf. 


165 


presented.  Yet,  even  in  their  virtue,  some  weak  in- 
fusion of  human  frailty  might  be  perceived.  The  bold 
tone  of  defiance  in  which  they  sometimes  addressed 
their  judges ;  the  warmth  with  which  they  overthrew 
the  altara  of  the  false  gods ;  the  eagerness  with  which 
they  even  cast  themselves  under  the  stroke  of  the  ex- 
ecutioner :  these  demonstrations  of  alacrity  and  zeal 
were  a  flame  breaking  out  from  the  fervor  glowing 
within  them,  a  flame  ardent  indeed,  and  brilliant,  but 
just  sufficiently  tinged  to  show,  that  some  small  grains 
of  human  frailty  mingled  with  its  sacred  fuel.  But 
their  guide  and  head,  in  His  passion,  evinced  nothing 
of  this:  not  an  accent  of  defiance  any  more  than  of 
complaint  escaped  His  lips ;  He  sought  not  to  aggra- 
vate or  hasten,  any  more  than  to  diminish  or  retard, 
His  sufferings.  Theii-s  was  the  daring  ardor  of  the 
champion, — His  the  unresisting  meekness  of  the  vic- 
tim. 

Yes,  my  brethren,  it  is  pl*ecisely  this,  which  makes 
the  conduct  of  Jesus  during  His  passion,  original  in 
its  perfection,  and  solitary  in  its  sublimity ;  that  His 
endurance  and  fortitude  was  the  consequence  of  those 
qualities  of  soul,  which,  in  human  calculation,  would 
have  led  to  the  very  opposite  results,  but  which  in 
Him  blended  into  one  divine  character  the  most  dis- 
similar virtues :  He  alone  is  strong  in  not  resisting. 
He  alone  is  courageous  in  making  no  opposition.  But 
in  the  midst  of  this  singular  patience  there  are  traits 
which  could  not  have  entered  into  even  the  imaginary 
delineation  of  human  perfection.  That  kind  exertion 
of  power  which  wrought  a  miracle  to  heal  one  of  His 
captors,  though  He  would  not  do  so  bef  Jie  Herod,  to 


ICG 


ON   THE  CIIARACTEU   AND  8UFI'*EKINGS 


save  IIi8  own  life ;  that  look,  which,  amidst,  unspeak- 
able torments,  could  dart  at  once  reproof  and  forgive- 
ness into  the  heart  of  the  apostle  who  had  just  denied 
Him ;  that  compassion  which  could  make  Him  forget 
His  own  cruel  sufferings,  to  console  the  pious  women 
who  wept  over  Him ;  that  filial  piety  and  zeal,  which, 
in  the  lost  agony,  could  provide  for  the  comfoi-t  of  a 
parent,  and  attend  to  the  salvation  of  His  fellow- 
sufferers  ;  above  all,  that  unheard-of  charity  which, 
could  exhaust  His  last  breath  in  a  supplication  foi 
His  pei-secutors'  forgiveness :  oh,  my  brethren,  these 
are  not  the  looks,  the  actions,  the  accents  of  man  1 
How  are  the  ways  of  God  exalted  above  our  ways ! 
How  differently  would  human  wisdom  have  sketched 
the  character  of  a  God  made  Man  for  the  redemption 
of  the  world !  We  might  have  made  Him  come  as 
the  Jews  expected  Him,  a  conqueror,  overthrowing 
all  who  resisted  His  will  and  opposed  His  religion. 
But  would  He  then  have  been  more  glorious  than 
when,  with  a  strong  hand  and  extended  arm.  He  over- 
threw the  host  of  Pharaoh,  and  rescued  His  people 
from  the  bondage  of  Egypt?  We  might  have  sup- 
posed Him  remodelling  the  human  heart,  and  gradu- 
ally adapting  it  to  the  infusion  of  His  law.  But 
would  He  then  have  appeared  in  the  same  magnifi- 
cence as  when  He  framed  that  heart  from  the  dust  of 
earth,  and  by  His  touch  communicated  its  first  vital 
impulse  ?  No,  my  brethren,  by  any  of  these  ways  He 
would  have  only  shown  Himself  the  same  as  He  had 
always  been-  the  Great,  the  Terrible,  and  the  Majes- 
tic, beyond  our  imitation  as  beyond  our  comprehen- 
sion ; — \)\it  never  should  we  have  seen  His  unlimited 


*18E5! 


far 


liMwaM 


}S 

it.  un  speak* 
id  forgive- 
ust  deuied 
lira  forget 
iU8  women 
3al,  which, 
mfoii;  of  a 
3is  fellow- 
ity  which, 
ication  foi 
bren,  these 
}  of  man  1 
our  ways  I 
9  sketched 
edemption 
ni  come  as 
3rthrowing 
is  religioQ. 
•rious  than 
a,  He  over- 
[lis  people 
have  sup- 
RDd  gradu- 
law.  But 
le  raaguifi- 
bhe  dust  of 
a  first  vital 
e  ways  He 
as  He  had 
the  Majes* 
Bomprehen- 
I  unlimited 


f^i 


OF  CliniST   IX   HIS   PASSION. 


Uf 


perfections  acting  in  the  narrow  sphere  of  human  re- 
lations; never  would  men  and  angels  have  beheld 
what  it  would  have  been  deemed  blasphemous  impiety 
to  imagine — the  conduct  of  a  God  in  sufiering  and  in 
death. 

Hitherto,  my  brethren,  we  have  viewed,  in  the  pei'- 
son  of  our  suflfering  Saviour,  the  "  High-Priest,  holy, 
innocent,  undefiled,  separated  from  sinners,  and  made 
higher  than  the  heavens  (Heb.  vii.  26) ;  we  have  now 
to  consider  Him  in  the  very  opposite  character,  as  the 
Victim  charged  with  the  iniquity  of  the  whole  people. 
We  have  heard  His  appeal  that  none  could  convict 
Him  of  siu :  we  have  seen  that  appeal  more  than  jus- 
tified in  His  passion,  by  the  conduct  of  His  adversa- 
ries and  the  perfection  of  His  own  character ;  we  have 
now  to  behold  Him,  in  spite  of  this  pei-sonal  inno- 
cence, doomed  to  die  by  the  decree  of  His  own 
Eternal  Father,  as  overcharged  with  a  debt  for  sin. 
The  sentence  of  men  was  indeed  unjust  which  con- 
demned Him  as  a  criminal;  that  of  the  Father  just,  as 
all  must  be  which  He  commands :  and  so  strong  is  the 
contrast  between  these  two  simultaneous  sentences 
upon  earth  and  in  heaven,  that  it  appears  as  if  even 
the  small  particles  of  equity  which  lingered  here  be- 
low after  the  first  fall,  were  now  withdrawn  from 
earth,  in  order  that  the  whole  powers  of  this  attribute 
might  be  concentrated  with  a  greater  force  in  this 
almighty  arm.  It  fell  from  heaven  undivided  upon 
the  head  of  this  devoted  Victim. 

God,  my  brethren,  abhora  sin  with  a  hatred  which 
it  has  not  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive. 
Yet,  for  four  thousand  yeare  had  He  witnessed  its  in- 


mttmm 


imwwiwiiiin 


1 


,  if 


^_' 


n 


r 


168 


ON  THE  CHAllACTKR    AND   SUFFERIN08 


croftsinj?  ravages  over  the  face  of  IIw  creation.    The 
fii-Ht  full  had  been  quickly  sacceeded  by  transgressions, 
without  number  and  withont  limits.    A  blinduew  had 
dimmed  the  eyes,  a  frenzy  had  seiTsed  the  heart  of  man, 
a  porvei-sion  of  will  distorted  all  his  faculties,  ft  fee- 
bleness of  purpose  paralyzed  all  his  desires  of  good. 
At  every  step,  the  whole  race  plunged  deeper  into  the 
abyss  of  religious  ignorance  and  criminal  excess,  which 
proceeded  to  the  absolute  degradation  of  their  nature. 
A  thick  cloud  veiled  from  their  sight  the  great  Au- 
thor  of  all  good,  or,  if  it  occasionally  transmitted  a 
few  rays  from  His  glory,  it  was  only  with  a  more  fierce 
and  threatening  glow.    The  world  had  even  forgot  its 
Maker :  the  woi-ship  of  the  true  God  was  at  one  time 
confineA  to  one  tabernacle  in  the  desert,  covered  with 
skins,  around  which  only  a  stiff-necked  -and  rebellious 
jjeople  knelt :    the  whole  of  His  inheritance  scarcely 
formed  more  than  one  speck  upon  the  broad  Burface 
of  His  earth.    Alas !  what  was  to  check  His  vengeance 
upon  His  ungrateful  creatures?      Was  it  the  faint 
smoke  of  the  few  victims  slaughtered  upon  this  one 
altar,  which  could  scarcely  penetrate  an  atmosphere 
tainted  with  abominations,  and  reeking  with  crime? 
No;  the  blood  of  oxen  or  of  goat«,  or  the  ashes  of  a 
heifer  sprinkled,  could  sanctify  no  more  than  to  the 
"cleansing  of  the  flesh."    (Heb.  ix.  13.)     Was  it  the 
prayers  and  expiations  of  the  few  just  who  remained 
faithful  to  their  God?    But  not  even  for  themselves 
could  they  have  deserved  mercy,  seeing  that  "  the 
Scripture  hath  concluded  all  under  sin"  (Gal.  iii.  32), 
and  that  they  belonged  to  the  infected  race.    How 
much  less  could  they  have  been  propitiation    for 


jTtMiiiiii  liiiOi  itV'iii">  ■   " 


,  ,.,    .-■  .i....  .^,..jlfa..i-  ■  ,1  iMi.,-..jii     irliJBiiliilli  I  iTWrwiiiit  in 


^jM. 


'V^-- 


11 


06 

ition.  The 
nsgrcssions, 
indueM  had 
eart  of  man, 
ilties,  ft  fee- 
es  of  good, 
per  into  the 
xcessi,  which 
heir  nature, 
e  great  Au- 
nDsniitted  a 
1  more  fierce 
en  forgot  its 

at  one  time 
wvered  with 
id  rebellious 
nee  scarcely 
road  eurface 
is  vengeance 

it  the  faint 
)on  this  one 

atmosphere 
with  crime? 
e  ashes  of  a 
than  to  the 

Was  it  the 
ho  remained 
r  themselves 
g  that  "the 
[Gal.  iii.  32), 

race.  How 
pitiatioa    fur 


or  onnisT  n?  nw  pabsioit. 


169 


othera?  For,  "no  brother  shall  redeem,  nor  shall 
man  redeem :  he  shall  not  give  to  God  his  ransom,  nor 
the  price  of  the  redemption  of  his  soul."  (Ps.  xlviii. 
8,  0.)  Hence  it  was,  that  the  Almighty  might  have 
visited  the  earth  with  His  punishments,  but  even 
these  could  form  no  expiation  and  no  security.  They 
could  only  be  like  the  storm,  which  clears,  in  its  fright- 
ful course,  the  impui  ities  that  have  gathered  under  the 
face  of  heaven,  then  leaves  them  once  more  to  collect, 
till  sufficient  to  merit  the  same  awful  remedy.  Had 
there  been  no  further  resource,  better  would  it  have 
been  for  man  had  the  great  Creator  shaken  in  sunder 
the  fabric  of  the  earth ;  or  if,  on  His  fii-st  great  chas- 
tisement, He  had,  in  the  family  of  Noe,  completely 
cut  the  chain  of  human  existence,  which  continued 
into  the  regenerated  world  the  crimes  and  defilements 
of  its  predecessor.  But  no ;  in  the  dread  book  of  the 
Almighty's  decrees,  at  its  very  head  a  -mysterious  per- 
son had  entered  the  solemn  and  impressive  words, 
"  Behold  I  come."  These  formed  the  charm  which 
suspended  the  exterminating  decrees  of  an  outraged 
Deity,  which  made  Him  receive,  with  complacency,  the 
odor  of  His  sacrifices,  and  listen  with  mercy  to  the 
supplications  of  His  servants. 

When,  at  length,  the  fulness  of  time  had  come,  this 
voluntary  victim  who  was  to  expiate  the  sins  of  all, 
Jesus  Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  stands  ready  to  receive 
the  fatal  doom.  Two  things  were  necessary  to  accom« 
plish  his  great  purpose;  that  He  should  take  upon 
Him  the  offeuces  which  He  has  to  atone,  and  that  He 
should  present  an  equivalent  for  the  debt  due  to  Divine 
Justice  for  them. 


i 


r 


iMB 


ITO 


OM    TIIR   CIUnAOTJCR    AXD   BUFFKRIXajJ 


In  the  Gnrt'en  of  Olivei  the  flret  con<lition  h^ni 
to  be  fulfilled.  As  the  Titai  moiruut  prescribed  for 
the  cornraencement  of  In  sufyt.Tings  nrrivem,  Hl«  char- 
uciiii  uuu  fedingf  undergo  the  dinulfnl  ch(U)g(>.  lie 
w  no  longer  regarfkd  by  His  f'ather,  m  that  beloved 
Son  in  whom  HeexpresMrtd  HJm«»»lf  well  plewied,  fi  >m 
the  cloud  of  Mount  Thabor;  uv  whom  He  had  h  lew 
tliiya  iHjfore  glorified  by  a  voice  from  Heaven.  Instead 
of  this,  He  sees  before  Him  a  culprit,  upon  whose 
head  lie  all  the  iniquities  of  men ;  all  the  foul  idola* 
tries,  and  the  horrible  Abominations  of  the  pngan 
world ;  all  the  Vebellions  and  treasons  of  His  fH^  orite 
people;  and  what  is  still  more  grievous,  the  blaci  in- 
gratitude of  those  who  ««bould  taste  the  fruits  of  His 
redemption.  Each  of  the  ingredientH,  everj  particle 
of  this  luoss  of  turpitude,  e.r cites  His  abhorrence  in  an 
inconceivable  degree ;  they  are  now,  for  the  fli-st  time, 
accumulated  upon  one  subject,  and  bury  from  His 
sight,  the  high  dignity  of  Him  whom  they  oppress. 
He!H  all  those  feeliugs  which  they  must  excite  in 
Him  are  no  less  concentrated  aga.  ,4  this  representa- 
tive of  crime;  the  indignation  which  sent  a  flaming 
sword  to  chase  our  first  parents  from  Paradise,  the 
wrath  which  drownt  d  in  one  deluge  the  entire  race  of 
man,  the  detestation  which  rained  fire  and  sulphur 
upon  seven  cities;  these  have  all  at  ]»'nc^th  found  one 
common  channel,  into  which  they  can  pour  their  burn- 
ing stream,  and  so  satisfy  a  craving  justice,  till  now 
only  Dartially  allayed. 

Oh !  what  a  corresponding  change  does  this  cause 
in  the  soul  of  our  dear  Iledeemer.  He,  too,  hates  sin 
as  mdch  as  His  Heavenly  Father;  He,  too,  pursues  it 


L 


EH 


T 


or  cnnvn  ix  nra  pamiov 


171 


n  l)t>g{ni 
\hm\  for 
lis  chftr- 
g«.     lie 

beloved 
i«(l,  fi  >ia 
ftil  ii  law 

Instead 
n  whose 
ul  idola* 
e  pflgAQ 

ftt^orite 
blaoi  in- 
B  uf  His 

pftrticle 
[ice  in  an 
li-st  time, 
i'om  Uls 
oppress, 
excite  in 
pre^f'titft- 

flaming 
.dise,  the 
e  race  of 

salphor 
Duud  one 
eir  burn- 
till  now 

his  cause 
hates  sin 
)Qi'sae8  it 


with  equal  detestation,  and  would  avenge  the  Ihvina 
Justice  wherever  its  enemy  is  to  bo  t(  nd.  What  a 
pro«t{)<*ct  then  must  it  be  to  Him  to  nc  the  trurisgreh- 
•ioDS  uf  the  wh  >1e  w  >r1d  thus  crowding  before  Him, 
oppi't'Rsing  His  soul  I  He  sees  them  not  merely  iti 
maw  and  indistinctly, — the  light  of  the  Divinity,  which 
beams  on  His  h'>uI,  Mh>*ws  Him  each,  separate  and  clear, 
as  if  that  moment  actually  |)erpetrated  Insfore  Hia 
eyes.  But  it  is  not  a  fnere  enumeration  of  these  hor* 
roin  which  forms  His  occupation.  The  dark  and 
dismal  catalogue  He  has  made  His  own.  Ho  has  become 
surety  for  its  amount ;  and  His  soul,  a,  few  moments 
before  enj*  ying  the  "peace  of  God,"  serene  and  tran- 
quil, gradually  becomes  darkened  and  agitated  hy  the 
increasing  storm,  till  it  is  made  one  scene  of  desolation, 
uneasiness,  and  distj  ess.  "  My  soul,"  says  He, "  is  8o^ 
rowful'even  unto  death."  (Matt.  xzvi.  38.)  The  ishame 
accompanying  the  commisnion  of  crime  overwhelms 
Him,  and  forms  the  tirst  ingredient  of  His  bitter  cup. 
We,  my  brethren,  are  but  too  li  ibituated  to  the 
commission  of  gin,  to  experience  that  delicate  and  fine, 
but  for  this  ery  reason,  more  piercii  feelin  ;,  which 
makes  us  bb  b  and  stand  confounded  before  our  own 
consciences,  even  when  there  is  no  witness  of  our 
fault.  ButHe^ees  Plis  pure  soul,  incapable  ii.  itself 
of  the  slightest  defilement,  now  hideously  disfigured 
by  milliuns  of  abominable  crimes,  mor^-  odious  to  Him 
than  death.  Abashed  hmI  degraded  He  sinka  upou 
the  earth.  Hii  mental  sorrow  i  neceH?*ariIy  connected 
with  anotJK  dreadful  suffering,  the  siraultaueons  au> 
tioipation  of  every  torment  inflicted  upon  Hun  through 
Hia  [laasion.     For,  a»  He  has  to  bear  the  iniquities  of 


■r» 


/ 


17a  ON   TIIK  OlIABACTKB    AKD  UUrFKRIWOB 

the  entire  rnce,  •«  mmt  He  bear  thoie  of  II  8  ptfnie. 
cuLmm;  nnd,  in  reviewing  iliem  all,  \U  n«c«»«a"i!y  suf- 
fer«  the  pnngn  by  inflicting  which  they  are  to  b  >  com- 
mitted.    He  feeU  Himself  clwrged   with  th«  trt-nion 
of  Judat,   ami   with  the  RpoHtacy  of  IVter.      Every 
blanphtMUomi  word  to  be  utton-d  .tgaiuHt  llim«»"lf,  \n  ft 
stain  which  noxv  defiles  His  soul.    Thus  do«--  He  i^- 
hearse  in  His  mind  every  part  of  the  bloody  tragedy 
which  has  immediately  to  commence,  bearing  at  once 
its  sufferings  and   its  guilt     Each  blow   upon  His 
lacred  head,  not  only  drives  deeper  the  wreath  of 
thorns  which  ^ncirclen  it,  but  inflicts  a  far  more  rack- 
ing wound,  in  the  guilt  of  sacrilegious  profanation, 
which  it  lays  upon  Him.    Eveiy  stroke  of  the  guilty 
hammer  which  forces  the  nail  into  His  tender  palm, 
not  only  rends  its  quivering  fibres  and  convulHes  His 
sensitive  frame,  but  transfixes  His  soul  with  a  keener 
anguish,  by  the  impiety  against  God's  anointed  which 
it  adds  to  His  burden  of  sin.    He  considei*  Himself 
a  fallen  and  a  rejected  creature ;  and  this  deep  sense  of 
degradation   generates  an   anxious  timidity  hitherto 
unknown  in  His  conduct.    Oh,  how  is  He  changed  from 
what  we  have  always  hitherto  beheld  Him  I     He  has 
left  all  His  disciples  except  three,  whom  He  selects  to 
be  the  companions  of  His  agony— "Stay  you  here 
and  watch  with  me."     He  di-eads  the  eyes  of  even 
these  three  favorite  disciples  whom  He  has  n-lected  to 
be  His  companions,  and  He  retires  from  them  in  order 
to  pray  alone.    Thi.e  times  He  returns  to  receive 
some  consolation  from  them,  and  to  derive  some  sup- 
port from  thei  i- uniting  with  Him  in  prayer.     Alasl 
He  used  to  be  their  consolation  and  support:  He  used 


1 


mmm 


„:.!j'-ji:.^^:'jLL.-A!.j'.,.-jg" 


Tl 


OV  OIIKIMT   IN    Itn   PAMION. 


178 


»lly  »uf« 

))  cuni- 

iremon 

Every 

f\f,  in  a 

trngetly 
At  once 
ton  liis 
eath  of 
I'o  rack- 
anntion, 
ti  guilty 
T  palm, 
lUen  His 
i  keeuwr 
id  which 
Iliiuself 
)  avn»ii  uf 
hithei'to 
ged  from 

He  htui 
lelects  to 
^ou  here 

of  even 
•leuted  to 
1  in  order 
3  receive 
ome  au{^ 
p.    Ala«  I 

Housed 


to  exclaim  to  them :  "  Ye  of  little  faith,  why  do  ye 
f»'ftr."  Yet  now  Ho  unint  rvcxxr  to  t/nm  for  a  like  en- 
coui'i^ement,  and  even  in  thin  H«  is  (lo<»med  to  dinap- 
pointment.  How  different  Hit  prayer  from  that 
j»oured  forth  in  tl»e  days  of  His  joy  I  "  O  my  Father,  if 
it  iH  possible,  let  thin  chalice  paw  from  me.  Nevel^• 
theleMH,  not  m  I  will,  hut  aa  thou  wiliest."  (!J9.) 
What,  then  !  i«  Thy  will  no  longer  to  do  that  of  Him 
who  aeut  Thee,  thftt  thou  tthouldHtdidtingulMh  between 
them!  Where  is  now  that  confidence  with  which 
Thon  wert  wont  to  excUlm,  "Father,  I  know  that 
Thou  hearest  me  always"?  (Jo.  xi.  42.)  Why  this 
conditional,  this  diffident,  this  so  frequently  repeated 
])rayer  i 

Because,  He  feel»  Himst-lf  changed  into  another 
man ;  H«  calls  out  as  an  unworthy  sinner,  and  as  such 
He  is  unheard.  Even  an  angel  from  Heaven  is  nece«h 
•ary  to  support  Him  in  His  excess  of  agony.  Oh,  what 
a  change  again  is  here  1  The  heavenly  spirits  did  in- 
deed announce  His  conception,  and  sing  hymns  of  joy 
and  glory  at  His  birth :  they  came  and  ministered  to 
Him  after  His  rigorous  fast.  But  that  they  should 
have  to  descend  upon  such  an  errand  as  thi«,  to  con- 
sole their  Master,  and  support  Him  in  His  sufferings, 
this  surely  is  a  service  never  anticipated  by  these  faith- 
ful ministers  of  His  will.  O  T^ord,  what  wonder,  that 
with  this  complicated  agony,  Thy  limbs  should  fail, 
Thy  pores  should  break  open,  and  Thy  agitated, 
bursting  heart  should  impel  its  streams  with  unnatural 
violence  through  Thy  trembling  limbs  and  body,  till 
its  precious  drops  gush  through  the  skin,  and  bathe 
Thee  prostrate  on  the  ground,  in  a  sweat  of  blood  I 


'M 


W'mmmrr^f 


•jmm 


i^  ♦ 


174 


ON   TlIK  CMARAC5TEK   AND  SUFFEUINOS 


"Surely  He  Lath  borne  our  infirmitU :  and  carried 
our  sorrows,  .  .  .  and  the  Lord  hath  Iha  on  Him  the 
iniquity  of  us  all."     (Is.  liii.  4,  6.) 

The  flrat  condition  of  atonement  was  thus  observed 
— the  second  yet  remains ;  and  it  was  fulfilled  upon 
the  cross.  I  will  not  attempt  to  lead  you  tnrough 
the  preliminaiy  sufferings  of  this  willing  Victim,  nor 
to  describe  His  torments  from  the  heartless  and  brutal 
treatment  of  the  Jewish  rabble,  or  the  more  studied 
and  systematic  mockery  of  the  Roman  soldiery.  It  is 
the  completion  of  the  sacrifice  on  Calvary,  which  prin- 
cipally deserves  our  notice.  Of  those  who  beheld  the 
Bad  procession  move  towards  this  fatal  spot,  and  be- 
held its  principal  sufferer  tottering  in  the  last  state  of 
weakness,  beneath  the  weight  of  His  own  cross,  His 
hair  and  beard  plucked,  His  features  defaced,  His 
tattered  raiment  stiffened  with  gore,  His  body  gashed 
and  welted  with  stripes,  His  comely  hend  torn  with 
the  thorns  which  crown  it ;  if  any  who  saw  this 
spectacle,  knew  that  it  was  His  Eternal  Father  who 
commanded  Him  thus  to  ascend,  i»i  order  to  be  immo- 
lated, he  would  surely  have  anticipated  that  the  last 
stroke  at  least,  would  be  averted,  and  have  flattered 
himself,  that  again,  it  would  be  said  with  truth,  "  On 
the  mountain,  the  Lord  will  provide  a  victim."  But 
no,  my  brethren,  Divine  Justice  eanuot  be  eluded ; 
and  the  heavenly  holocaust  is  cruelly  fastened  to  the 
altar.  Oh,  who  can  recount,  who  can  conceive,  the 
sufferings  of  His  last  three  hours !  All  the  sores  in- 
flicted by  His  previous  torments  retain  their  former 
smart,  now  aggravated  by  being  re-opened,  and  gan- 
grened through  exposure  to  the  air.    Besides  these, 


«»► 


■  yiiiiiiii «ii» 


iLi;]".  liuiMujaBiilltM 


M*i 


■y  m    fll 


carried 
[iim  the 

bserved 
;d  upon 
tnrough 
tim,  nor 
d  brutal 
studied 
^.  It  ia 
ch  prin- 
beld  the 
and  be- 
state  of 
089,  His 
sed,  His 
'■  gashed 
>rn  with 
aw  this 
ber  who 
e  immo- 
the  last 
Mattered 
th,  "  On 
I."  But 
eluded ; 
d  to  the 
live,  the 
jores  in- 
'  former 
nd  gan- 
»  these, 


*»► 


OF   CHRIST  IN   ms   PASSION. 


Its 


four  new  wonncls,  roughly  inflicted  by  the  nails  which 
fix  Him  to  the  cross,  ever  tearing  and  enlarging, 
maintain  an  unceasing  and  racking  pang.  A  parch- 
ing thiret,  only  aggravated  in  Him  by  a  draught  of 
gall  and  vinegar;  a  burning  fever  tingling  through 
every  turgid  vein ;  a  constrained  respiration  fruitlessly 
struggling  for  ease  and  freedom, — such  were  the  ordi- 
nary torments  of  crucifixion ;  but,  in  this  instance, 
they  were  the  least  portion  of  the  suffering.  Even 
the  most  abandoned  culprit  meets  with  some  com- 
miseration from  the  multitude ;  and  some  expression 
of  sympathy  generally  soothes  his  dying  ear.  But 
the  Redeemer  of  the  world  is  pureued  with  taunts 
and  scoffs,  to  the  last  moment  of  His  life.  Not  a 
friend,  or  a  comforter,  raises  His  head  before  Him,  ex- 
cept those  whose  sorrow  only  aggiavates  His  own — 
His  Mother,  and  His  beloved  disciple.  His  little 
property  is  all  in  the  bands  of  Hiu  enemies,  who  are 
unfeelingly  amusing  themselves  at  the  foot  of  His 
cross,  by  casting  lots  over  His  wretched  spoils.  But 
what  is  all  this,  to  the  abandonment  and  desolation  of 
soul  which  He  now  feels  ?  For  Him  it  was  little  that 
the  world  should  have  fci'saken  Him,  or  conspired 
against  Him,  so  long  as  He  was  supported  by  His 
heavenly  Father.  But  this  consolation  is  now  with- 
drawn ;  a3  He  hangs  between  earth  and  Heaven,  He 
feels  Himself  placed  between  man  and  His  offended 
Deity,  abandoned  by  both,  unpitied  by  both ;  and, 
after  looking  in  vain  around  Him  on  earth,  to  gather 
some  mite  of  consolation  here  below,  He  casts  up  His 
d^ponding  eyes  towards  Heaven,  and  exclaims  in 
His  last  burst  of  sorrow  and  distress,  "  My  God,  My 


ik 


^ 


K 


I 


wmm* 


m 


*S:i 


M 


I 


m^m 


176 


ON  THK   ClIARAOTER   AND   8UFPERTN09 


God,  why  hast  T/iou  abandoned  me !"    But  no,  this  is 
not  enough ;  not  only  does  He  hold  Himself  aban- 
doned, but  accursed  of  God;  "for  cursed,"  says  St. 
Paul,  "  is  every  man  that  hangeth  on  a  tree."     He  con- 
siders Himself  as  one  struck  by  God  and  afflicted, 
and   abstracting  from   the   malice  of  man,  feels   in 
every  wound  the  poignant  stroke  of  His  infliction. 
The  dai'knras  which  veils  the  face  of  Heaven,  appears 
to  Him  not  as  the  mourning  of  Nature  over  His  snf- 
farings,  but  as  if  the  sun  refused  to  shine  upon  such 
an   object   of   Divine  wrath   and   execration.      Ihe 
earthquake,  with  which  the  ground  ^^eels,  as  He  ex- 
pires, seems  to  Him  not  the  convulsive  pang  of  cre- 
ation in  sympathy  with  its  suffering  Maker,  but  the 
painful  throes  of  the  world,  unable  to  support  the 
burden  of  iniquity  which  presses  from  His  cross,  nnd 
struggling  to  be  delivered  of  its  accumulated  weight. 
Oh,  are  not  all  these  sufferings  an  adequate  compensa- 
tion to  the  outraged  rights  of  Heaven,  for  the  sins  of 
the  whole  world  I    If  justice  demanded,  and  compas- 
sion had  granted,  that  blood  of  such  price  should  be 
shed  for  man,  it  was  not  surely  necessary  that  it 
should  flow  in  such  a  copious  stream.    But  Thou,  O 
Jesus !  wast  not  content  with  less  than  a  complete  and 
unreserved  purchase,  that  we  might  not  be  any  longer 
our  own,  but  be  Thy  pviople,  and  Thou  our  Sovereign 
King.    Oh,  and  what  a  throne,  dear  Lord,  hast  Thou 
-jhosen,  to  reign  over  us— what  a  sceptre,  what  a 
crown  1    Not  a  seat  of  majesty  like  that  of  Thy  pre- 
decessor, Solomon,  which  dazssled  by  its  splendor,  and 
astonished  by  its  magnificence  all  who  entered,  but 
the  hard  and  knotty  rack  of  the  cross,  disjointing  Thy 


».*"miiiiiiiii  <i|iiiiiiliii|Miiiijlii  III 


fag^'g'aagwBWii.H  miuiiiibiw***!—! ■— — >i 


f 


m 

' 

1 

this  is 

F  abftn- 

ays  St. 
or 

r% 


T 


• 


OF  CHRIST  IW  HIS   PA88I0IT. 


177 


limbs,  and  grating  upon  Thy  mangled  body  I    Not 
the  Hceptre  of  Assuerus,  which  all  men  dreaded  to  see 
withheld,  and  which  saved  a  life  by  every  touch ;  but 
the  weak  aud  despicable  reed,  which  mockery  has 
thrust  into  Thy  wounded  hand,  and  whose  strokes 
only  descend    upon    Thine    own   venerable    head  1 
Not  the  diadem  which  Tl^y  father  David  made  from 
the  spoils  of  Melchom,  rich  in  much  gold,  and  glitter- 
ing with  precious  stones  (1  Paral.  xx.  2),  but  a  circle 
of  long  hard  thorns,  straining  and  goring  Thy  sacre^ 
brows,  and  glistening  with  the  crimson  drops  which  it 
has  rudely  torn  from  Thy  veins.     Oh,  be  not  these  sor- 
rows endured  for  us  to  no  purpose  I    Thy  blood,  which 
pleadeth  better  than  that  of  Abel,  and  which  clean- 
seth  us  from  all  sin,  be  upon  us,  and  upon  our  chil- 
dren; not  as  called  down  upon  themselves,  by  the 
blaspheming  Jews,  but  as  its  drops  fell  upon  Thy  sor- 
rowing disciple  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  as  a  dew  of 
mercy,  reconciliation,  and  peace  I 

My  brethren,  I  am  conscious  of  having  drawn  for 
you  but  a  faint  etching  of  these  two  portraits  of  the 
Son  of  God,  where  the  subject  might  have  been 
wrought  into  a  rich  and  glowing  picture.  But  still,  I 
may  ask,  does  not  reverence  for  His  sacred  perfec- 
tions, and  gratitude  for  His  redemption,  impel  us, 
once  at  least  in  the  year,  to  commemoi-ate  His  suflFer- 
Ings  ?  The  season  set  apart  for  this  pui-pose,  is  now 
«ome;  and,  as  the  functions  therein  will  have  com- 
menced before  I  address  you  for  the  last  time,  next 
Sunday,  allow  me  here  to  inculcate  the  propriety  of  a 
respectful  and  devout  behavior  during  their  celebra- 
tion.   Many  of  you  have,  perhaps,  been  brought  up 

13 


f^EMMi 


■MM 


•■"•**i- 


'3 


178 


ON    niE  CHARACTER   AND  SUFFERINGS 


to  consider  that  all  porup  and  ceremony  shiwld  be 
banished  from  religion ;  you  have  been  taught  that, 
while  you  may  employ  the  ricbest  perfume,  which  the 
bounty  of  God  has  caat  over  the  earth,  in  the  cause  of 
vanity,  or  personal  gratification,  it  then  only  becomes 
an  odor  of  death,  when  it  ascends  in  a  cloud  of  hom- 
age before  the  aUur  of  its  Giver.  You  have  beeu, 
perhaps,  taught  that  the  riches  of  eai'th,  the  gold  and 
sdver  which  He  haf>  claimed  as  His  own  by  His 
prophet  (Malachi),  may  be  lawfully  used  to  deck  the 
tabernacles  of  clay  which  we  inhabit,  but  they  are 
cast  away  in  useless  superstition,  the  moment,  "  in  the 
simplicity  of  our  he&rts,  we  offer  all  these  things"  for 
the  splendor  of  Go'i's  house.  K,  then,  these  are  your 
feelings,  I  say  to  you,  "  refrain  from  these  men,"  and 
leave  them  to  themselves.  Mingle  not  in  a  worahip 
which  yju  do  not  approve.  But  if  you  will  place 
youraelf  in  this  situation,  remewber  that  you  are  pres- 
ent where  the  most  dignified  hierarchy  of  the  greatest 
Christian  Church  is  assembled  to  commemorate  the 
sublime  benefit  of  salvation.  Remember  that  the 
hymns  which  you  hear  chaunted  in  solemn  pathos, 
are  the  dirge  aud  funeral  song  of  the  Redeemer  of  the_ 
world,  when,  according  to  the  advice  of  Jeremias,  the 
daughter  of  God's  people,  girt  with  sackcloth  aud 
sprinkled  with  ashes,  makes  mourning  as  for  an  only 
son.  (vi.  26.)  You  pass  with  gravity  and  salute  with 
reverence,  even  the  humble  bier  of  the  poor,  as  it 
moves  to  his  last  abode,  and  you  respect  the  sori-ow  of 
those  who  mourn  after  his  remains:  surely  it  is  not 
too  much  to  expect  the  same  for  the  whole  Christian 
Church,  weeping  over  the  cruel  death  of  her  Re- 


r 


wmamm 


L'!!i  -  J .  ■'  - .  Kmm^^f"^'^^-  ^i-ijr'  j'li-  '^  1 " 


IHj^oHii 


Mtt 


OF  CHRIST  IN   UIS   PASSIOIT. 


no 


deemer  and  Head.  And  if  any  one,  with  such  a  re 
fle^^tion  before  his  eyes,  conducts  himself  with  disre- 
spect, much  more  with  insnlt,  that  man  must  he  so 
insensible  to  the  benefit  commemorated,  that  it  is  not 
hr^iah  to  say,  that  had  he  lived  at  the  time,  he  would 
have  joined  in  the  outcry  for  the  release  of  Barabbas, 
and  scoffed  on  Calvary  in  the  face  of  the  cross.  "  But 
from  yoii,  my  brethren,  we  hope  better  things."  We 
trust  that  you  will  show  to  the  world  that  your  faith, 
your  hope,  reposes  upon  the  mystery  of  the  cross,  and 
that  by  celebrating  worthily  this  first  visit  of  the 
Lord,  when  He  comes  in  meekness  and  peace,  you 
will  not  have  to  dread  His  second  appearance,  in  the 
day  of  His  judgment  and  Hia  wrath. 


ii 


1 


H 


mm 


SERMON  IX. 
(^n  the  3ainM  <rt  €fivi»t. 

Matt.  xL  6. 
"  BlMMd  ia  he  that  ahall  not  be  scandalized  In  me." 

The  moderation  of  our  Lord's  demands,  my  breth- 
ren, should  be  the  inverted  measure  of  our  confusion. 
In  proportion  as  He,  who  could  claim  all  things,  con- 
tents Himself  with  asking  little,  as  He  bates  more  and 
inore  of  His  just  rights  and  lawful  exactions,  we,  too, 
should  rise,  or  rather  sink  in  our  humiliation,  and  our 
blushes  should  deepen,  to  see  how  low  an  estimate  He 
must  have  formed  of  our  gratitude  and  our  worth. 
"Blessed  is  he  that  shall  not  be  scandalized  (or  of- 
fended) in  me  !"  Note  well  the  connexion  of  this 
sentence.  "  The  blind  see,  the  lame  walk,  the  lepers 
are  cleansed,  the  deaf  hear,  the  dead  rise  again,  the 
poor  have  the  Gospel  preached  to  them — and  blessed 
is  he  that  shall  not  be  scandalized  iu  me."  What !  of 
such  as  are  thus  benefitted,  is  no  more  asked  ?  Shall 
they  not  be  called  on  to  minister  with  their  worldly 
goods,  to  Him  who  has  restored  to  them  the  blessings 
of  life,  yea,  their  very  life  itself?  Is  not  the  foot,  or 
the  eye,  which  He  hath  renewed,  the  health  which 
He  hath  brought  back,  His,  that  it  should  serve  Htm 
for  ever  ?  Shall  He  not  have  a  room  in  the  widow  of 
Nairn's  house,  as  the  prophet  had  at  Sarepta;   shall 


<% 


WdhfepM 


"tm 


OW   THE   SCANDAL   OF  CHRIST. 


181 


shall 


not  the  niler  feast  Him,  when  He  passes  by  his  way ; 
and  the  centurion  be  called  on  to  rescue  Him  IVoni 
the  conspiracies  and  violence  of  His  enemies  ?  Coidd 
any  individual  being,  in  a  nation  so  favored  as  that 
was,  with  His  glorious  presence,  so  loaded  witl.  mer- 
cies, by  the  exercise  of  His  great  power,  be  reasona- 
bly called  blessed,  even  for  showing  gratitude,  overt, 
active,  unceasing  and  unwearied  towards  Him ;  or  for 
feeling  love,  deep,  fervent,  and  inexhaustible  ?  And 
yet.  He  seemeth  hardly  to  dare  asking  so  much.  He 
shrinks,  in  fear  of  man's  corrupt  heart,  in  suspicion  of 
our  wayward  affections,  from  overcharging  us  with 
such  a  load  of  sweetness.  He  sets  tha  price  and  ac- 
quisition of  blessing  at  the  lowest  possible  instalment 
of  gratitude :  "  Blessed  is  he  that  shall  not  be  scan- 
dalized in  me  1"  As  though  He  had  said :  "  Happy 
shall  ye  be,  if  ye  refrain  from  showing  me  aversion 
and  dislike  ;  blessed  shall  ye  be,  if,  not  having  courage 
to  welcome  me  when  I  arrive  at  Jerusalem  with 
hosannas,  ye  will  at  least  abstain  from  joining  in  the 
oufef^i'ix^s  for  my  blood  I  Well  shall  it  be  with  you,  if, 
unabl**  ro  attend  by  me  in  my  trials,  with  the  faithful 
few  who  shall  surround  the  foot  of  my  cross,  ye,  at 
least,  stand. not  in  the  crowd,  and  wag  your  heads  at 
rae  in  mockery."  Ob,  how  poor,  indeed,  must  human 
nature  have  seemed  to  Him,  when  He  rated  its  bless- 
edness so  low ! 

And  we,  my  brethren,  what  are  we  but  a  crowd  of 
blind,  and  lame,  and  helpless  wretches  who  surround 
Jewis ;  and  all  of  us  are  lepera  whom  He  hath  cleansed 
from  sin  in  the  laver  of  regeneration ;  and  many  of_u3 
have  been  dead,  and  raised  by  Him  from  the  deep 


•i 


I 


'f 


fcHlijluiJlWlfiprrti^'i^gJ'liWrftl!*.  I  Jtf i>;l!ni.|  i  .'mtf M—.iwjl-'^*!lli-'' 


/] 


189 


oy  THK  SCANDAL  OF  CimiST. 


and  thrice-sealed  graves  of  our  iuiqaities.  And  yet, 
of  08  too,  He  well  may  say,  "  Blessed  is  he  that  is  not 
Bcandaliied  in  me."  Doubtless,  upon  hearing  these 
words,  and  considering  them  as  addressed  to  us,  we, 
each  of  us,  exclaim  with  Peter,  "  Although  all  men 
•bould  be  scandalized  in  Thee,  I  will  not  be  scandal- 
ieed."  (Matt.  xxvi.  83.)  Doubtless,  our  hearts  revolt 
at  the  idea  of  being  so  thankless  and  unfeeling ;  and 
we  fancy,  in  the  delusions  of  our  self-love,  that  nev^r 
•hould  we  shrin*  from  owning  and  professing  Jesut, 
even  should  temptation  come.  And  yet,  alas!  mj 
brethren,  I  say  it  with  pain  and  with  shame,  the 
chances  are,  that,  if  but  the  slightest  trial  presented 
itself  this  day,  before  the  cock  shall  crow,  we  should 
deny  him  thrice ! 

In  two  different  ways  does  our  Saviour  tell  us  that 
we  may  be  scandalized  in  Him.  For  first,  when  some 
men,  thinking  his  doctrine  hard  and  unpalatable, 
thereat  murmured,  He  reproved  them  saying :  "  Doth 
this  scandalize  you  ?"  (Jo.  vi.  62.)  Are  you  offended 
at  my  doctrine,  because  it  does  not  fall  within  the 
narrow  circle  of  your  comprehensions  and  conceptions  ? 
Secondly,  when  foretelling  the  cowardice  and  flight  of 
His  apostles,  upon  seeing  Him  ignominiously  and  un- 
justly treated.  He  called  their  -conduct  by  the  same 
name,  saying:  "All  you  shall  be  scandalized  in  me 
this  night."  (Matt.  xxvi.  30.)  Our  scandal,  or  offence 
at  Christj  may  thus  have  a  two-fold  direction  from  a 
common  root :  which  root  is  pride.  For  this  one,  and 
individual,  feeling,  will  not  let  us  soar  irto  admiration 
of  doctrines  above  the  hampered  flight  of  our  weak 
minds,  nor  let  us  stoop  in  sympathy  and  admiration 


«»• 


HMII 


I 


" 


0!»  TIIR  ROAITDAL  OF  CnitlST. 


185 


over  the  humiliations  of  oar  Lord.  8t.  PhuI  briefly 
and  energetically,  as  he  is  wont,  characterizes  this  two- 
fold 8canda],when  he  says,  that  Christ,  cniuified,  whom 
he  ])reached,  was  to  the  Greeks,  "  who  sought  wisdom," 
*'  foolishness,"  and  to  the  Jews,  who  required  signs,  "  a 
stumbling-block;"  but  "to  those  who  are  called," 
"  the  wisdom  of  God,  and  the  power  of  God.  For 
that  which  is  the  foolish  of  God,  is  wiser  than  man,  and 
that  which  is  the  weak  of  God,  is  stronger  than  man." 
(1  Cor.  i.  22,  26.)  That  is,  these  doctrines,  whereat 
the  learned  Greeks  smiled  as  fond  and  extravagant, 
were  the  fairest  manifestations  of  uncreated  wisdom ; 
and  those  humble  appearances  of  Christ's  religion, 
which  the  carnal  Jews  contemned,  were  the  mightiest 
demonstration  of  infinite  power  and  glory.  Let  us  see 
how  far  we  ever  fall  into  this  two-fold  scandal. 

First,  we  are  scandalized  or  shocked  at  the  duo* 
trioes  of  Christianity ;  we  perhaps  bear  them  about  us, 
but  we  bear  them  as  we  should  a  talisman  or  charm, 
in  whose  efficacy  we  ourselves  believe,  at  the  same 
time  that  we  should  feel  ashamed  were  it  discovered 
upon  us  by  others.  Strange  and  incomprehensible 
feeling  I  The  Jew  possessed  a  law  of  dark  and  needy 
elements,  the  shadow  of  our  good  things ;  the  adap< 
tion  of  God's  truths  to  the  unregenerated,  unspiritual- 
iaed  mind  of  man.  Yet  he  was  proud  of  it.  H© 
meditated  upon  its  open  volume,  sitting  on  the  door* 
step  of  his  cottage  amidst  the  ruins  of  his  ancient  cities ; 
he  used  of  old  to  write  its  chosen  precepts  upon  the 
posts  of  his  gat/e;  he  materialized  the  commands  of 
attention  to  it,  and  bound  it  in  phylacteries,  upon  his 
arm  and  over  his  eyes,  that  he  might  never  forge^i  it, 


T 


184 


OH   TUB  SCAMDa  .  Or  CIIKMT. 


and  that  all  mm  might  1cnowth«  reliKion  •  which  h« 
lH5longed.  In  this,  no  doubt,  was  exce**  i-  extravji. 
gance.  For  woe  to  the  man  who  only  ou  .Uly  ytro' 
fesaen  the  law  of  his  Lo»d,  and  treasureth  »•  not  up  in 
his  very  heart's  heart;  in  whom  the  vhlhU  dtuion- 
•tration  thereof  is  other  than  the  ovei-flowing  of  a  soul 
that  will  I  >t  contain  its  fulness. 

And  here,  my  brethren,  it  is  meet  tlft'.  "justice 
should  begin  from  the  house  of  God. "  (1  F^'X  iv.  17.) 
It  is  right  and  wholesome,  that  before  we,  i  ho  minis- 
ters of  Christ,  chide  the  coldness  and  neglect  of  the 
faithful,  we  confts«  in  confusion  our  own  tJi^grftce, 
and  deplo.  «  th«  seduction  of  our  weak  exam«.U'.     For 
it  is  too  true,  tl  at  the  ferment  and  glowing  language 
of  religion  hath  escnned  from  our  lips,  and  tliat  we 
handle  its  brightest  glories  with  coldntii  ,  tad  wield 
the  thunderbolts  of  its  judgments,  as  though  they 
were  but  for  our  disport.     When  are  the  sublinje 
dogmas  of  revelation  proposed  to  the  mink  of  the 
faithful,  with   that  kindred  inspiration   ihnt;  passed 
from  them  into  the  ht'arts  of  ancient  Father  i   Where 
do  we  now  meet  that  mysterious  wisdom,  and  deep 
admiration  of  the  abstruser  doctrines  of  faith,  which 
proceeded  from  loug  and  fervent  meditation  upon 
their  sublime  worth  ?    Is  it  not  too  clear,  that  our 
preaching  consists  rather  in  the  diluting  of  mysterit^s 
as  in  the  softening  down  of  severity;  and  that,  wbi  ■ 
we  affect  to  make  virtue  amiable,  and  revelation  pala- 
table,  we  in  ti-uth  sacrifice  the  real  beauty  of  both, 
and  reduce  them,  though  divine,  to  a  human,  and  an 
earthly  standard  ? 

And  if  the  scandal,  thus  beginning  from  the  shep- 


1 


A 


Inch  hi 
exti'AVtt* 
Jly  pro- 
ot  up  in 
tlmiion- 
)f  a  soul 

"justice 

iv.  17.) 
0  in  in  id* 
:t  of  the 
Hsgrftce, 
W.  For 
nngUBgtt 

tliat  we 
id  wiel' 
gh  tlusy 

Bublime 
^  of  tbe 
t  passed 

Where 
ad  deep 
,h,  whioU 
on  upon 
that  our 
nysteries 
at,  while 
iion  palar 

of  both, 
1,  and  an 

bhe  shep- 


MtoMMMewiMMn 


or  TtlE  SCANDAL   Of 


185 


lierua,  h*v«  uprt-ml  to  all  th.  flock,  i»  it  not  hami^iat- 
ing  to  reilect  that  the  J«'\v  who  f^-lt  arid  !»howed 
thvniftelves  Bo  j-mud  of  their  impt'rfect  diHpttiiiiation, 
•ball  one  day  rm  in  judgnuMit  against  us?  —they  who 
will  themsclvt'S  be  witnt'Hsed  against  by  Nineveh  uiid 
the  QiK  en  of  Saba,  for  the  pric«  which  they  set  upon 
human  wisdom  and  exhortation.  But  where,  you 
will  perhaps  avk  me,  are  the  proofs  that  wo  appear 
scandnliztii  \'lth  the  sublime  doctrines  of  Chri«tauity  ? 
I  answer  tht v^  ^m  manifold.  And  fii-st  let  me  ask 
you,  wh./  do  y  a  to  prove  that  you  love  and  value 
them?  1  speak  not  now  of  the  unbeliever;  I  mean 
not  *'•  contend  with  such  as  call  themselves  unsatisfied 
with  tbe  evidence  of  our  faith. 

But  we  who  profess  to  hold  the  truth,  and  conse- 
quently to  esK^ni  it,  do  we  take  much  pains  to 
manifest  our  feelings?  Lovo  is  a  jealous  emotion  :  it 
betrays  itself  unwittingly  in  a  thousand  ways.  It  lets 
no  word  escape  unnoticed  which  disparages  its  object: 
it  is  ever  armed,  although  only  defensively ;  and  fears 
no  contest,  be  the  foe  ever  so  dreadful.  It  is  of  its 
nature  given  to  discourse  much  on  those  things  which 
it  follows  and  esteems.  It  is  artful  and  ingenious  to 
discover  the  way,  whereby  its  own  feelings  may  be 
multiplied  in  othei-s,  and  its  own  quality  become  uni- 
vereal.  It  oft«m  wearies  people  by  persevering  m\- 
porlunity  in  its  one  object  and  thought.  Now,  if 
these  be  the  qualities  of  a  real  affection,  ask  yourselves 
if  your  love  of  God's  law  and  revelation  so  posseas 
them  ?  Search  well,  if  indeed  it  be  a  matter  of  much 
investigation,  whether  your  intercouree  in  society 
often  brings  before  your  notice  examples  of  such 


T 


lU 


ON   TlIK  iCAMDAL  Of   OlIBWT. 


«ingl«-mliitlfl«l  cluvotedneM  to  thU  cauw.  And  ii 
God'H  Uw  th^n  well  loved  amongst  tut  Nhy,  Ut  lue 
prol)f»  tho  matter  d««per. 

In  there  not  nn  Imhituttl  shrinkinj?  from  any  notice 
of  such  subjects?     U  not  a  Imrrier  placed  hetweeo 
the    proprietieH    of    life    and    all   conver««t;un    uiM)n 
them  I     And  wherefore  this  I    The  Greeks  and  the 
Romans  in  their  polished  asuemhlict  diicoui-aed  to 
g«.ther  of  philosophy  grave  and  severe,  and  next  in 
dignity  ond  in  wiwlom  to  that  of  Christ.    The  Eastern 
•ees   no  unbecoraingness  in  convening  of  his  fake 
religion  before  men,  and  practiVmg  its  duties  in  the 
face  of  the  world.     We  Christians,  alone,  are  bashful 
and  timid  in  professing  our  admiration    nd  love  for 
the   glorious  revelation   which   God  hath  given   us. 
And  this,  my  brethren,  is  tho  flwt  symptom  of  our 
being  scandalized  with  the  Gospel,— our  want  of  in- 
terest  in  its  regard.  ^ 

For  our  blessed  I^ord  allows  of  no  middle  or  indif 
ferent  state :  "  Ho  that  is  not  with  me,  is  ogainst  me." 
(Luke,  xi.  23.)  Now  as  he  who,  during  a  contest, 
makes  no  demonstration  of  partiality  to  one  side  or 
another,  nor  once,  either  by  deed,  or  word,  or  look,  or 
gesture,  encourages  either,  but  passes  by  or  gazes  on 
as  an  uninterested  spectator,  will  not  be  allowed  to 
■hare  the  victor's  crown,  or  divide  the  spoils  of  tho 
vanquished,  so  cannot  he  reasonably  hope  to  be  ac- 
knowledged  by  Christ  for  His  friend  and  ally,  who 
stands  aloof  from  His  side  in  cold  indifference,  during 
the  daily  conflicts  of  His  faith.  But  the  sentence  saith 
more :  that,  as  in  civil  contention,  the  indifferent  citi- 
een  w)io  looks  on,  when  tho  friends  of  order  and  jus- 


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ON   TIIK   SCANDAL  OF   CIIUI9T. 


187 


tice  have  girded  on  their  swords,  hath  always  been  con- 
sidered a  fautor  and  abettor  of  the  rebellious,  so  will 
the  Lord  look  upon  those  as  having  fallen  oflF  from 
Him,  and  joined  His  enemies,  who  stand  not  up  for 
Him  and  His  law. 

And  !ive  you  not,  my  brethren,  in  the  midst  of 
such  warfare,  and  in  the  constant  duty  of  actively 
striving  for  the  faith  ?  Thanks  indeed  to  the  Lord  of 
Hosts,  who  hath  strengthened  the  arms  of  His  faithful 
servants,  the  great  triumph  overcrested  and  rampant  in- 
fidelity has  been  achieved ;  and  our  age  no  longer  quails 
before  the  hideous  pestilence  of  its  blasphemous  breath. 
But  if  th«  great  and  more  appalling  conflict  has  ceased, 
because  •'  the  I^ord  v  iis  hath  killed  the  monster  by 
the  breath  of  His  month,"  there  has  arisen,  as  it  weie, 
fi*om  its  very  blood  when  spilt,  a  creeping  and  annoy- 
ing brood  of  foolish  philosophies  and  empty  theories, 
which  have  transferred  the  war  from  the  open  field 
wherein  all  the  church  contended,  to  the  domestic  cir- 
cle,  and  the  intercourse  of  individuals.  Few  will  now 
openly  combat  the  great  doctrines  of  faith,  but  rnanj 
privately.  None,  perhaps,  would  join  in  the  coai-se 
and  scoraful  laugh  against  all  things  sacred,  which  re- 
sounded through  many  parts  of  Europe  in  the  last  cen- 
tury ;  but  the  number  is  not  small  of  those  who  smile 
nt  the  credulity  of  others),  and  plausibly  condemn  their 
belief,  as  only  linked  to  less  enlightened  and  more 
grovelling  minds.  The  rejection  of  some  of  the  sub- 
lime  dogmas  of  Christianity,  of  the  Trinity  and  Divin- 
ity of  Jeshs  Christ,  has  awfully  increased.  And  has 
our  active  zeal  in  their  defence  increased  in  propor- 
tion ?    Have  our  earnestness  and  determination  to  con* 


r 


188 


ON  TriK  SOATTOAL   OP  CHRIST. 


tend  for  the  faith  of  Christ— to  contend,  I  mean,  with 
the  meek  yet  powerful  arms  of  the  spirit— gained 
strength  in  equal  mens-.ire,  with  a  strong  desire  to  see 
nil  men  freed  from  error  and  bowing  in  simplicity  to 
the  doctrines  of  truth  ?  And  if  not,  does  not  our 
want  of  an  active  zeal  effectually  prove  that  we  shrink 
in  cowardice  from  the  cause  of  God :  and  what  is  this 
but  to  be  scandalized  thereat  ? 

Bat  pride  will  ever  cloak  itself  in  the  outward  ves- 
ture of  some  better  feeling.  We  say  to  ourselves, 
"  God  forbid  that  we  should  do  other  than  gloiy  in 
His  doctrines  and  Jaws ;  but  they  ai-e  too  sublime  and 
too  holy  to  be  mingled  with  our  ordinary  thoughts, 
or  paraded  before  the  world.  It  is  our  deep  awe  and 
veneration  for  them  which  make  us  shroud  our  feel- 
ing's towards  them  from  the  gaze  of  men."  Ah  1  my 
brethren,  did  we,  like  the  prophet,  retire  three  times 
a-day  to  the  silence  of  our  chamber  to  meditate  on 
the  law  of  our  God,  and  pray  for  the  restoration  oi 
His  kingdom  (Dan.  vi.  10),  we  might,  indeed,  hqve 
some  pretence  for  thinking  that  we  separated  our  rev- 
erence and  love  for  them,  from  the  daily  feelings  and 
actions  of  our  life,  and  considered  the  holy  treasures 
of  our  spiritual  sanctuary  too  awfully  venerable  to  be 
exhibited  in  the  profaner  precincts  of  the  outer  court 
Yet  no,  even  thus  should  we  descend  from  our  close 
and  secret  converse  with  the  Law  and  its  Giver,  as 
Moses  did  from  the  cloud  of  Horeb,  bearing  its  tablets 
openly  upon  our  arras,  and  shedding  from  our  very 
countenance  the  mild  and  cheering  light,  caught 
in  such  close  and  inspiiing^  communion.  But  for 
us,  so  to  speak,  whose  meditations  are  unfrequeut 


■l«iMK«*l> 


OK  THK  SCANDAL  OV  CHRIST. 


189 


[  mean,  with 
(irit — gained 
desire  to  see 
simplicity  to 
oea  not  our 
at  we  shrink 
what  is  this 

utward  ves- 
0  ourselves, 
lan  gloiy  in 
sublime  and 
y  thoughts, 
sep  awe  and 
id  our  feel- 
"  Ah!  my 
three  times 
neditate  on 
storation  oi 
adeed,  h^ve 
ted  our  rev- 
-eelings  and 
ly  treasures 
erable  to  be 
outer  court 
m  our  close 
ta  Giver,  as 
g  its  tablets 
n  our  very 
;ht,  caught 
u  But  for 
unfrequeut 


and  tlistracted,  and  whose  minds  are  sluggish, 
and  whose  hearts  are  cold,  and  whose  thoughts 
of  God  and  His  commandments  form  the  small- 
eat  of  occupations,  is  nothing  better  than  a  mis- 
erable delusion.  Nay,  it  is  much  worse.  For,  so  to 
sftect  is  but  to  copy  the  conduct  of  the  Israelites,  who 
so  much  offended  God ;  when,  loving  the  flesh-pots  of 
I^ypt,  and  loathing  the  manna  which  came  down  to 
them  from  heaven,  they  excused  themselves  even  by 
the  delicacy  of  the  food,  as  not  suited  to  their  coarser 
palates.  "Our  soul  now  loatheth  this  light  food." 
(Num.  xxi.  6.)  Yes,  so  i;  ia  with  us;  this  nourish- 
ment of  the  soul  which  was  not  given  to  us  by  angels, 
as  was  their  manna  and  their  law,  but  communicated  to 
us  by  the  Incarnate  Wisdom  itself,  is  too  ethereal,  too 
poor,  too  heavenly  for  us  to  relish :  and  wo  pretend 
this  as  an  excuse  for  not  loving  it  more.  "  Our  soul 
hath  a  loathing  of  this  light  food,"  The  knowledge  of 
God's  law  and  will,  the  study  of  His  truths  and  mani- 
festations,  the  real  support  of  a  mind  and  soul  that 
actually  looks  upwards  to  a  higher  sphere,  are  ever 
postponed  to  the  frivolous  occupations  or  pursuits  of 
the  world :  and  we  shelter  oureelves  beneath  the  pal- 
try excuse,  that  they  belong  to  w  sphere  too  elevated 
for  the  mind  unceasingly  to  revolve  in. 

And  38  not  this  to  take  scandal  at  that  very  quality 
of  God's  truth  which  renders  it  most  worthy  of  His 
Name?  Wherefore  was  a  subliraer  revelation  made 
to  man,  save  to  enable  him,  by  the  elevation  of  his 
powers,  to  turn  his  thoughts,  which  sin  had  bowed 
down  unto  the  earth,  upwards  towards  heaven;  to 
raise  the  flame  of  all  his  spiiitual  movements  into  a 


■•MMl 


109 


ON   TtlK  SCANDAL  OK  CHRIST. 


higher  level,  and  cause  them  to  mingle,  in  glad  and 
easy  aapirations,  with  an  order  of  intelligence,  from 
which  his  fall  had,  till  then,  excluded  him?     It  was 
precisely  that  we,  who  believe  in  the  sublime  truths 
thus  revealed,  should  have  ever  before  us  a  more  ex- 
tended view  of  the  providential  scheme,  devised  by 
infinite  love,  in  favor  of  man,  with  all  the  stirring 
motives  and  principles  of  action  which  its  knowledge 
must  inspire ;   and  that  this  knowledge,  and  its  consb- 
quent  impulses,  should  pervade  the  ven'  constitution 
of  society,  and  form  the   very  spring  and  regulator 
of  every  Christian  mind.    And  yet,  thus  elevated 
above  the  world,  instead  of  our  contemplating  it  with 
the  eye  of  faith,  and  considering  it  a  school  wherein 
lessons  of  the  highest  order  are  taught,  we  busy  our- 
selves with  the  paltry  interests  that  surround  us,  and 
take  an  active  part  in  their  passing  pleasures ;  thus 
resembling  the  recreant  prophet,  who,  neglecting  the 
marvellous  work  of  grace  and  mercy  which  was  going 
on  in  the  city  below  him,  was  onl-  engaged  in  watch- 
ing the  growth  of  the  perishat.    gourd  which  shel- 
tered him  from  the  heat. 

Do  you  not  see  how  ungrateful  is  the  pretence,  that 
religion  is  not  the  constant  object  of  our  convei-satiott 
and  thought,  on  account  of  its  sublimity  and  supeH- 
ority  to  man's  conceptions  1— and  how  paltry,  tool 
Is  not  the  sun  too  bright  for  his  eye,  and  yet,  doth  he 
shut  it  to  its  lustre,  and  does  he  not  look  at  all  things 
through  that  which,  if  gazed  on,  would  blind  him! 
Is  not  the  ocean  too  deep  for  his  lines,  and  yet,  doth 
he  forbear  to  seek  riches  in  its  gulphs,  or  to  pui-sne 
his  desires  through  iU  billows  ?    Is  not  the  home  of 


-mi ri'irTitw^f ■'n--T— r'" ' ''''->"■'-"■*''' ^"' 


•^'iftrntetsi 


iSSESSQpMMP^B 


Olf  THK  SCAITDAL  OF  CnRWT. 


101 


n  i^lad  and 
jfence,  from 
n?     It  wa« 
lime  truths 
a  more  ex- 
devised  by 
the  Btirring 
knowledge 
id  its  oonsb- 
constitotion 
id  regulator 
U3  elevated 
»ting  it  with 
lool  wherein 
'6  busy  our- 
lund  us,  and 
isures;  thus 
iglecting  the 
nh  was  going 
ed  in  watch- 
which  shel- 

iretence,  that 

convereation 

T  and  supeii- 

paltry,  tool 

yet,  doth  he 

at  all  things 

I  blind  himt 

md  yet,  doth 

or  to  pni-sne 

the  home  of 


the  nearest  star  too  remote  for  his  meftunrement,  and 
is  not  the  arch  of  heaven  too  vjwt  for  his  span ;  and 
yet,  doth  he  not,  in  soul,  fly  thither,  and  love  them 
the  more  for  the  expanse  of  sublime  conception  and 
tender  feeling  in  which  he  is  there  lost  ?  Was  not 
man  bom  to  soar,  was  not  his  soul  created  a  spirit, 
and  were  not  his  desires  winged,  that  they  might  s»- 
pire,  and  naturally  rise,  to  thoughts  and  ideas  of  that 
highest  sphflr^  to  which  they  are  destined  ?  If,  then, 
in  all  things  eliie,  their  greatness,  and  majesty,  and  in» 
oomprehensible^iess,  do  no  ways  deter  us  from  attempt- 
ing  or  using  them,  so  should  it  be  with  those  spiritual 
elements,  that  w^i9  made  for  the  spirit's  occupation. 

But,  my  brethren,  let  us  now  examine  ourselves  a 
little  closer.  Do  yon  still  think,  after  what  hath  been 
laid,  that  you  shrink  not  from  Christ's  Gospel,  and 
that  you  show  no  weakness  in  its  cause  i  You  may 
then  place  the  point  thus  clearly  at  issue.  It  has,  at 
least,  been  shown,  how  little  fervor  we  display  in  the 
cause  of  religion,  how  little  we  speak  and  converse  of 
it,  how  seldom  we  defend  it,  how  unintentionally  we 
betray  our  want  of  feel  ing.  in  favor  of  those  very  qual- 
ities which  form  its  chiefest  worth  and  recommenda- 
tion. Now,  such  we  are,  where  all  that  surrounds  us 
it^in  our  favor,  where  many  even  think  alike  regard- 
ing it,  and  where  the  applause  and  esteem  of  the  vir- 
toous,  at  least,  would  reward  our  efforts.  If  such, 
then,  we  be  in  time  of  calm,  what  should  we  have 
been  amidst  trial  and  tribulation  ?  Should  >ve  have 
meritod  tfie  blessings  pronounced  on  those  who  are 
not  scandalized  in  Jesus,  when  to  own  Him  brought 
with  it  suffering,  disgrace,  and  death?    Would  the 


-J 


•I    >     II  irwi 


109 


OV  TlIK  SOAKDAX.  Of  CnHWR 


Gospel  havo  been  preached,  or  Chnstianity  eatab* 
llshed,  Lad  tho  task  been  supported  by  no  better 
spirit,  by  no  greater  fervor,  than  wo  exhibit,  merely 
to  preserve  it  I    Listen  to  the  apostle  of  the  Gentiles : 
"  I  am  ready,"  he  saith,  "  to  preach  the  Gospel  to  you 
also  who  are  at  Rome,  for  I  rtm  not  ashamed  of  the 
Gospel."  (Rom.  i.  15,  16.)     And  yet  that  Gospel  wm 
to  hira  as  a  fetter  to  his  feet  and  manacles  to  his 
hands,  and  a  yoke  of  iron  around  his  neck,  of  which 
he  elsewhere  writes,  that  he  labored  in  it  "  even  unto 
chains,  as  an  evil-doer."    (2  Tim.  ii.  «.)     He  was  not 
ashamed  of  the  Gospel,  nor  of  preaching  it  in  Rome, 
where  his  preaching  would  bring  him  not  only  bonds 
and  proscription,  bat  torment  and  death.    He  was 
not  ashamed  of  the  Gospel,  nor  of  preaching  it  amidst 
the  scoffing  sages  of  the  Athenian  council ;  no,  nor  of 
openly  announcing  its  most  sublime  and  trying  doc- 
trines, or  of  boldly  expounding  its  stern  morality,  to 
the  proud  and  debauched  Festus,  on  his  judgment- 
seat  1     Ah  1  he,  in  sooth,  was  not  scandalized  in  Jesus ; 
he  loved  His  doctrine,  and  he  cherished  it,  and  he  de- 
fended it,  in  the  face  of  men ;  yea,  and  in  the  face  of 
death ;  for  he,  moreover,  was  not  scandalized  at  the 
humiliations  "of  his  Master,  or  the  ignominies  of  His 
cross.     And  this  is  the  second  scandal  into  which  I 
have  said  we  are  liable  to  fall. 

If  it  was  a  sad  reflection  that  one  day  the  Jew  shall 
rise  in  judgment  against  us,  because  he  loved  and 
openly  professed  the  imperfect  law  which  God  had 
given  him,  while  we  were  ashamed  of  that  sublimer 
one  wherewith  we  have  been  blessed,  I  fear  that  a 
bitterer  reflection  here  awaiteth  us,  regarding  the 


f 


/ 


"T 


^m 


ity  eBtab- 
10  bett«r 
It,  merely 
Gentilett : 
pel  to  you 
ed  of  the 
ospel  was 
lee  to  his 
of  which 
even  unto 
3  was  not 
;  in  Rome, 
nly  bonds 
He  was 
;  it  amidst 
no,  nor  of 
rying  doc- 
lorality,  to 
judgment- 
I  in  Jesus ; 
and  he  de- 
he  face  of 
Bed  at  the 
ies  of  His 

0  which  I 

1  Jew  shall 
loved  and 
t  God  had 
t  sublimer 
gar  that  a 
u'ding  the 


OW  Tire  SCANDAL   OF  CHRTBT. 


19S 


second  offence  into  which  we  fall:  for,  hero  the 
heathen  will  justly  take  up  his  testimony  against  us, 
and  say:  "The  gods  which  I  worehipped  were  but 
the  likeness  of  sinful  man ;  in  the  vanity  and  blind- 
ness of  my  heart  I  clothed  them  with  all  the  vice  of 
their  adorers;  I  imagine  rtiem  ambitious,  cruel,  and 
revengeful;  given  to  their  lusts,  proud,  and  conten- 
tious. But,  having  thus  named  them  ray  gods,  I  was 
not  ashamed  of  them ;  I  decked  them  out  in  gold,  and 
silver,  and  precious  stones ;  1  created  the  arts  to  em- 
bellish thero,  and  left  to  posterity  splendid  memorials 
of  my  fond  belief;  I  sang  their  praises  in  my  daily 
songs,  and  I  made  them  the  theme  of  every  labored 
composition.  But  you,  Christians;  you  who  had  a 
God  among  you,  pure  and  without  stain — the  type  of 
our  nature  in  its  most  faultless  conception — the  ideal 
of  all  that  is  noble,  exalted,  divine  in  man  :  how  do 
you  honor  Him,  or  even  show  Him  respect  I  Is  He, 
or  are  His  virtues  and  beautiful  qualities,  half  as  much 
in  your  mouths  as  were  in  mine  the  false  deities  of 
Olympus  or  of  Helicon  1  Or  rather,  is  it  not  too  true, 
and  too  evident,  that  when  you  wish  to  embody, 
through  art,  the  ideal  of  comeliness  in  feature  or  in 
mind,  yoa  still  go,  as  I  used  to  do,  to  the  sculptor,  and 
bid  him  carve,  as  ornaments  to  your  halls,  a  voiceless 
Apollo,  or  an  uninspired  Muse  ?" 

My  brethren,  even  in  this  lowest  form  of  reverence 
to  our  humble  and  afflicted  Lord,  do  we  fall  below  the 
ancient  pagan  in  avowed  honor  for  Him.  But  I  must 
be  allowed  to  distinguish  between  two  classes  of 
Christians  differing  widely  in  this  respect. 

In  this  capital  of  the  Catholic  world,  the  heathen 

13 


/ 


\ 


T 


^:fga 


mf^^M)/^ 


r 

1 

R 

' 

1 

1 

194 

OK  TOT  SCANDAL  OF  CnHBT. 

1 

L 


r 


could  not  utter  that  reproach.  Its  monumentu,  lU 
public  place*,  and  its  piivate  houBcn,  exhibit  fenrlesHly 
t^e  symbols  of  our  religion,  and  of  it«  Founder  in  Ilin 
lowlineiH  and  sufferings.  The  cross  welcomes  you  at 
the  approach  to  every  hamlet ;  the  atatians  of  Hui 
Passion  represent  His  ascent  to  Calvary,  at  every 
steep  acclivity  leading  to  &  church ;  His  helpless  in- 
fancy, in  the  arms  of  His  mother,  stands  fua'th  promi- 
nently  at  the  comer  of  almost  ev«ry  thoroughfare. 
These  and  other  countless  demonstrations  of  pious 
faith,  show  to  the  stranger  that  he  is  not  only  in  a 
Christian  city,  but  in  one  which  demonstrates  its 
Christianity  by  these  very  characteristics  that  the 
GoHt>el  describes  as  truly  belonging  to  it. 

For  you  may  wander  all  day  through  the  squares 
and  streets  of  Rome,  without  meeting  a  single  repre* 
sentation  of  our  Lord's  resurrection,  or  of  His  ascen- 
sion, or  of  any  of  His  wonderful  works,  or  "  later  glo- 
ries." But  of  Him  falling  under  His  cross,  or  struck 
and  buflfetted,  and  crucified,  in  other  words,  of  the 
"  scandal  of  the  cross,"  you  cannot  vbit  the  glorious 
amphitheatre  of  Titus*  without  evidence  that  ihia  peo- 
ple is  not  ashamed. 

But  is  that  stranger^nation,  which  wanders. through 
its  streets  in  search  of  w^hatever  is  beautiful  in  its 
completeness  .,  majestic  in  its  ruin,  not  so  ashamed  ? 
Were  a  Hindoo  or  a  Mohammedan  to  spend  days  in 
London,  would  he  meet  one  object,  beyond  the  bare 
symbol  on  the  towers  of  churches,  which  speaks  not 
to  his  sense,  or  mind,  that  would  teach  him  that  its 
inhabitants  honored  and  loved  their  Lord,  the  head  of 

*  The  ColiMenm,  round  which  are  painted  the  Stations  at  the  CroH. 


■  ■mrnnmrtiniinimliini 


iiwmniifc.iiKiiniiMlwiini  I  —faaitatmi/gf 


T 


ON  Till  ncAKDAL  OF  cnmnT. 


105 


unientM,  itl 
it  f«ftrl«»Hly 
n<ier  in  Hm 
tneit  you  at 
»ns  of  llifl 
',  at  every 
belplem  in- 
LU'th  promi> 
oroughfai'e. 
IS  of  piout 
t  only  in  a 
astrntes  ita 
I   that   the 

he  squares 
ingle  repro- 
His  asceor 
"  later  glo- 
I,  or  struck 
>rds,  of  the 
he  glorious 
at  this  peo- 

TS .  through 
tiful  in  its 
I  ashamed? 
nd  days  in 
d  the  bare 
speaks  not 
im  that  its 
the  head  of 

f  theCroM. 


their  religion,  on  account  of  Hit  abjection,  His  igno^ 
miny,  IHh  pains  and  torments,  and  His  death?  And 
even  here,  do  not  too  many  of  our  fellow-coun* 
trymen  express  abhorrence  of  the  visible  proofs  to 
which  I  hav«  alluded,  of  honor  and  devotion  towards 
our  benign  Saviour  in  His  passion  ?• 

But,  dear  brethren,  I  am  dwelling  on  the  lowest 
standard  of  honor  for  Him.  How  bold  and  how  prac- 
tical are  these  two  sayings  of  8t  Paul :— First :  "  God 
forbid  that  I  should  glory,  save  only  in  the  cross 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ"  (Gal.  vi.  14);  Second: 
"  "Willingly,  therefore,  will  I  glory  in  ray  infirmities, 
that  the  power  of  Christ  may  dwell  within  me."  (2 
Cor.  xii.  9.) 

Astonishing  words,  and  to  the  sense  of  man  scarcely 
reconcilable  I  For  the  apostle  saith,  that  he  will  glory 
in  his  own  weaknesses,  while  he  has  solemnly  depre- 
cated the  thought  of  gloiying  in  anything  save  the 
cross  of  our  Lord  Jesurf  Christ.  Are  then  our  infirm- 
itiM  of  body  and  mind  so  unified,  incoi-porated,  iden- 
tified, with  the  cross  of  Christ,  that  to  glory  in  them, 
is  to  glory  in  this?  Most  certainly,  my  brethren, 
these  texts  combined  can  convey  to  us  no  other  mean- 
ing. Nay,  the  second  of  them  nays  it  all :  St  Paul 
declares  that  he  will  "  gloi^  in  his  infirmities,  that  the 
power  of  Christ  might  dwell  in  him."  And  what  is 
"the  power  of  Christ"?  Nothing,  surely,  else  but 
what  he  calls  by  that  name — that  cross  which  was  to 
the  Jews  "a  stumbling-block,"  but  to  us  "the  power 
of  God."  8t  Paul  then  clearly  believed  that  afflic- 
tion, penury,  losses,  calumnies,  persecutions,  and  unjust 
death,  received  a  consecration  fi-om  the  crot»  of  Christ, 


WMNilAa 


HHI 


196 


ON  THl  80AKDAL  Of  OnRWT. 


which  nnlted  them  so  intimately  with  \h»  m.  re^•I^g^ 
that  they  were  honorable,  and  gloi-ifying,  a.  it  Uw  own. 
Now,  b  this  the  f»3cling  or  thought  of  modern  Chn*. 
tianityl     Patience  and  ronignation  to  God'n  will,  we 
preach  and  jKwrly  practice ;  hut  who  ilartii  nay  to  the 
rich  sufferer:      "Glory;    nijoico  in  y<.ur  pa.n. ;  be- 
cauM  through  them  the  power  of  Christ's  cross  dwell- 
eth  in  you.      Call  your  son*  'the  meicies  of  Go  ,   as 
did  Bt.  John  of  the  Cross,"     Who   will  venture  to 
preach  in  the  hospital,  to  the  sick,  the .  maimed,  the 
crippled,  that  theirs  is  a  place  for  i-ejoicing  and  exult- 
ing-  for  there   Christ  reigns,  with  the  magnificent 
•centre  of  His  glorious  cross :  and  whuro  He  reigns, 
there  should  be  gladness,  and  even  bli«8?     Even  where 
the  "angel  of  Satan  buffetteth"  through  "the  sting  of 
the  flesh,"  and  the  apostle  prays  that  it  may  deport 
from  him,  our  Lord  refuses :  because  His  grace  suffi- 
ceth,  and  power  is  shown  forth  more  perfectly  in  weak- 

ness.  (2  Cor.  xii.  1.)  , .       .,       .     i     i 

No,  indeed,  we  are  far  from  reaching  the  standorit 
of  the  Gospel,  on  this  moving  subject.    We  do  not 
wish  to  be  too  much  like  our  divine  Saviour.     We 
would  gladly  resemble  Him  in  His  virtues  and  graces 
in  His  gentleness  ond  meekness,  in  His  kindness  and 
tenderness,  in  his  wisdom  and  prudence-in  a  word, 
in  whatever  is  noble,  amiable,  pleasing  before  men; 
but  certainly  not  in  His  homelessness  ond  dereliction, 
in  His  destitution  and  hunger,  in  His  persecution  by 
tongue  and  arm;  in  what  would  have  made  Him  but 
little  popular,  little  loved  in  the  modem  worid. 

^ruth,  indeed,  compels  me  to  say  it:  we  shrink  from 
too  close  a  resemblance  to  our  heavenly  Master  in  all 


Off  TltK  g€ANl)AL  Or  OIIKMT. 


lOT 


Hiiiruringfi, 
fllinown. 
ern  Chri»« 
M  will,  w« 
wiy  to  tli« 
jmins ;  W 
r(>iw  tlwell- 
f  (i>','  a* 
rcjituro  to 
aimed,  the 
Riul  exult- 
nagiiiflcent 
He  reigns, 
2ven  where 
the  stiug  of 
lay  tlejmrt 
grace  suffli' 
tly  in  weak- 

le  standai'd 
We  do  not 
viour.  We 
and  graces, 
ndoess  and 
-in  a  word, 
)efore  men; 
dereliction, 
reecution  by 
de  Him  but 
irorld. 

shrink  from 
Vlaster  in  all 


that  rognrd*  hi«  most  |wculiar  distinctivci.  We  do 
not  wish,  nor  do  wo  like,  to  lie  at  "a  l«j>er,  a  man  of 
BorrowM,  as  one  struck  by  (}'.kI,  and  humbled ;  m  ono 
in  whom  there  in  no  comelin^sft  or  beauty ;  ae  a  stunted 
shrub,  trmlden  under  foot  and  despi«ed."  (Is.  liii.) 
The  cross  w  a  stumbling-block  to  us  as  to  the  Jews; . 
we  do  not  glory  in  Hut  crosH,  or  in  our  own  infirmities. 

Thnnk  Ood,  however,  in  His  Church  there  has  eve** 
been  that  love  of  Jesus  Christ  in  His  abjection  and 
suffering,  and  the  desire  to  resemble  Him,  kept  vivid 
and  verdant  through  a  long  line  of  saintt.  After  the 
age  of  the  martyrs,  who  best  resemble  Ilim,  there  ger- 
minated, as  if  from  the  foot  of  the  cross,  that  succes- 
sion of  holy  religious,  who,  after  resigning  rank,  even 
regal,  entered  the  monastic  life,  to  swell  that  glorious 
army  of  the  cross  which,  in  poverty  and  obtMlience, 
has,  from  age  to  age,  fought  against  the  world,  and 
vanquished  it 

Such  was  holy  St.  Francis,  who  bad  no  love  and  no 
desire  bat  to  show  forth,  in  his  very  l>ody,  Chi-ist,  and 
Him  crucified ;  in  cold,  in'  hunger,  in  nakedness,  and 
in  Bolitade  and  in  meditation;  till  God  gave  him  a 
still  more  singular  conformity  with  the  veiy  wounds 
of  his  crncified  Lord. 

Such  was  the  blessed  and  dear  St.  Elizabeth,  who 
honored  poverty  and  sores  so  tenderly,  os  to  place  a 
leper  in  the  royal  bed,  which,  whon  her  indignant  lord 
uncovered,  he  found  there  the  Lord  of  lords  whom  the 
poor  outcast  symbolised  better  than  he  did,  thorn- 
crowned  and  wounded.  And  after  his  death,  she 
showed  how  she  could  glory  in  her  own  suffering,  un- 
der every  trial  and  mortifying  humiliation. 


iAMk. 


.^ff^^''  |i 


-    fj 


m^^m 


198 


OM  THE  SCANDAL  OF  CHRIST. 


Such,  finally,  to  come  nearer  to  our  own  times,  was 
tlie  venerable  Benedict  Joseph  Labre,whom  the  Church 
will  probably  one  day  raise  to  the  honors  of  canoniza- 
tion, ttough  some  yet  remember  him  in  this  city 
(Rome)  a  poor  mendicant,  begging  his  bread,  and  im- 
itating voluntarily  the  poverty  of  his  divine  Master. 

A  celebrated  modern  writer,  not  distinguished  by 
any  strong  Christian  feelings,  has  observed,  that  the 
most  daring  and  wonderful  characteristic  of  Chratian- 
ity,  was  its  casting  a  veil  of  holiness  over  all  that  the 
world  and  human  nature  recoil  from,  and  exalting  it 
above  what  th.ey  love  and  covet. 

And  it  is  so,  my  brethren ;  paganism  never  exhibited 
the  least  respect  for  poverty,  or  the  least  aflFection  for 
suffering,  apart  from  personal  ties.  No  hospitals,  no 
nursing  of  this  sick,  no  love  for  widows  or  orphans,  no 
care  for  the  poor,  except  to  pi-ess  them  into  the  service 
of  the  State.  Scorn,  contempt,  severity,  cruelty — such 
were  the  natural  portioa  of  the  destitute.  Next  tx) 
crime,  perhaps  on  a  level  with  it,  was  misfortune. 

After  the  priest  of  the  Capitol,  the  Levite  of  the 
Temole  passed,  almost  equally  unheeding.  The 
Jewish  law,  the  law  of  God,  inculcated  kindness, 
charity,  love.  Alms  were  a  duty ;  the  cause  of  the 
widow  atid  the  orphan  were  put  under  divine  pro- 
tection ;  the  poor  mendicant  was  not  tc  be  passed 
by,  nor  the  naked  left  unclothed,  nor  the  hungry 
unfed.  But  there  was  no  brightness  shed  on  the  coun- 
tenance of  the  poor,  no  songs  of  angels  chsered  hb 
lonely  couch. 

Then  came,  at  last  Jeans  of  Nazareth,  an  infant 
laid  on  straw,  and  lodged  in  a  stable.    Poverty  and 


'"•<••'  '-m«immmmmiimmmt0mmmixj.'mmempm 


r 


MH 


ON  THE  SCANDAL  OF  CUEIST. 


times,  was 
the  Church 
)f  canoniza- 
{  thiB  city 
id,  and  im- 
3  Master, 
^uished  by 
},  that  the 
r  Chriatian- 
dl  that  the 
exalting  it 

[  exhibited 
ffection  for 
capitals,  no 
trphans,  no 
the  service 
elty — such 
.  Next  to 
rtane. 
nte  of  the 
Ing.  The 
.  kindness, 
use  of  the 
livine  pro- 
be  passed 
ho  hungry 
a  the  coun- 
hsered  his 

an  infant 
overty  and 


affliction  are  the  firet  welcomes  Ha  receives  on  earth. 
These  precede  the  Magics  presents.  Yes,  He  is  poor ; 
His  mother  is  poor;  His  reputed,  father  is  poor. 
And  afterwards  His  apostles  are  poor,  and  His  disci- 
ples, and  His  chosen  associates.  Then  He  boldly 
preaches  poverty,  and  denounces  riches:  bids  His 
rich  followers  sell  their  property  if  they  wished  to 
enter  His  kingdom ;  and  bids  His  chosen  ones  rejoice 
when  they  want  all  things,  and  when  the  world  hates 
them. 

Such  are  the  three  stages  through  which  afflicted 
humanity  has  had  to  pass.  In  the  first,  scorned  and 
anpitied ;  in  the  second,  tolerated  and  compassionated ; 
in  the  third,  loved  and  exalted.  Yes,  loved  upon 
earth  by  the  Son  of  God  from  Bethlehem  to  Calvary, 
from  the  manger  to  the  cross;  loved  in  retirement, 
loved  in  public  life ;  loved  amidst  publicans  and  sin- 
ners, loved  among  Pharisees  and  Rulers ;  loved  when 
urged  to  become  king,  loved  when  proclaimed  one, 
naked  on  the  cross;  and  so  bome  upwards,  and 
enthroned  with  Him,  at  the  right  hand  of  His 
Father. 

And  there  surely  may  He  well  say :  "  Blessed  is  he 
who  is  not  scandalized  in  me !" — not  scandalized  in 
the  weakness  of  a  human  body,  transcending  in  glory 
the  brightest  spirit  in  the  angelic  choir :  wounds  and 
rents  in  a  Man's  flesh  more  radiant  than  the  very  stars 
in  Mary's  crown  I  Who  will,  or  can,  be  scandalized 
at  these  ?  And  yet  that  flesh  is  of  earth,  and  those 
wounds  were  inflicted  upon  earth,  "  in  the  house  of 
them  that  loved  Him."    (Zac.  xiii.  6.) 

No;  we  are  scandalized  or  shocked  at  nothing  that 


i 


imt. 


asc 


400 


ON  TlIE  SCANDAL   OF  CIiniST. 


fjMP 


is  blight  or  glorious — not  even  at  those  forms,  or 
ucars  of  hnmanity,  in  which,  when  bare,  and  mocked 
at,  and  bleeding  on  earth,  we  dare  not  glory.  Yet, 
my  brethren,  what  bore  up  so  high  that  hunger-worn 
and  attenuated  form,  with  its  bleeding  and  pleading 
gashes  ?  Not  the  pomp  of  this  world,  nor  its  honors, 
nor  its  affluence,  nor  its  own  perfect  comeliness.  They 
were  the  buflfet  and  the  scourge,  the  nails  and  the 
lance,  the  shroud  and  the  cross,  beyond  all,  which 
were  as  wings  to  raise  that  blessed  Humanity  above 
Piincipalities  and  Powei-s;  they  formed  the  fieiy 
chariot  of  His  triumph  to  the  eternal  Heaven  of 
heavens. 

And  how,  deai'  brethren?  You  have  heard  it  fi-om 
St.  Paul,  when  he  told  you  thrt  "  Christ  crucified,  the 
stumbling-block  of  the  Jews,  is  Hie  power  of  God." 
(1  Cor.  I  23.)  For  it  is  in  Him  crucified  that  aie  all 
the  might  of  our  faith  and  the  firmness  of  our  hopes. 
He  redeemed  us  on  Calvary,  and  not  on  Thabor.  He 
sendeth  forth  His  apostles  to  travel  over  the  whole 
earth  without  even  a  staff;  to  build  thousands  of 
churches  without  a  purae ;  to  fight  and  conquer  an 
empire,  never  before,  or  since,  equalled  vl  power, 
matched  with  it  as  sheep  are  with  wolves. 

Beverse  for  a  moment  this  order  of  things,  as  is  done 
in  our  times.  It  is  no  satire,  no,  nor  envious  parallel 
that  I  am  going  to  place  before  you.  Let  us  imagine 
some  missionary  going  out  from  some  society  in  our 
country,  to  preach  the  Gospel  to  the  benighted  inhab- 
itants of  interior  Africa,  or  of  some  coral  reef  in  the 
ocean.  It  is  fctr  from  improbable  that  such  a  one, 
who  may  not  have  become  poorer  by  relinquishing  his 


'* 


•Mm 


forma,  or 
id  mocked 
ioiy.  Yet, 
inger-wovn 
d  pleading 
its  honors, 
ess.  They 
Is  and  the 

all,  which 
inity  above 

the  fiery 
Heaven  of 

ard  it  fix>m 
iicified,  the 
r  of  God." 
that  are  all 
'  our  hopes, 
labor.     He 

the  whole 
ousands  of 
conquer  an 

ill  power, 

8,  as  is  done 
)U8  parallel 
us  imagine 
lety  in  our 
hted  inhab- 
reef  in  the 
iuch  a  one, 
quishing  his 


ON  THE  SCANDAL  01*  CHRIST. 


201 


paternal  nets,  would  be  addressed  in  terms  not  unlike 
these : — 

"  You  are  about  to  carry  the  Gospel  light  to  nations 
sitting  in  darkness.  But  while  you  will  bear  in  one 
hand  the  torch  of  truth,  you  will  carry  in  the  other 
the  lamp  of  civilization ;  nnd  the  two  flames  will  min- 
gle into  one — the  light  of  wisdom.  The  people,  su- 
premely ignorant  of  all  things,  without  science,  or  even 
an  alphabet,  will  soon  acquire  a  respect  for  you,  so 
much  better  instructed,  so  much  more  highly  oultiva- 
ted ;  they  will  Ibten  to  your  words  with  docility ;  they 
will  accept  your  assurance  for  what  they  do  not  see 
or  comprehend,  on  the  warranty  of  that  knowledge 
which  you  will  exhibit  concerning  visible  and  common 
things.  They  are  indeed  jealous,  savage,  and  inhuman, 
but  fear  not  The  British  name  is  known  there,  and 
is  a  shield  and  a  charm  among  the  most  barbarous 
nations ;  yon  will  land  under  the  shadow  of  its  pro- 
tecting standard,  flashing  above  the  huge  vessel,  which 
will  overawe  any  attempt  at  violence,  and  yet,  by  its 
wonderful  mechanism,  subdue  the  intellect  of  the  sav- 
age, and  prove  your  claims  to  a  superior  condition  in 
the  scale  of  human  nature,  and  your  right  to  be 
heard."* 

Such  a  charge  would  not  seem  extravagant.  Yet, 
ho¥r  we  must  invert  the  Scriptures  to  give  it  weight 

*  A  few  jtm  agOb  s  iigtdiarj  at  i\^  Enfl^ttih  EatablialuneBt,  leotnriBg  in 
•  giwt  mwnfMtnriag  town,  endeavored  to  show  that  miimdea  were  ifo 
longer  needed  t^  the  minionary  to  lavagu  oouutrics ;  becaoae  adence  and 
mecha^iam,  as  poaaeaaed  bjr  oa,  were  anflclent  to  eatr.bliah  the  teacher's 
claim  to  be  hoard,  aa  bearer  of  hia  high  meaimge.  Ho  mentioned  the  ateam 
engine  aa  thua  having  taken  the  place  of  healing,  or  other  miracnloaa  evi. 
denoea  of  a  divine  miaaion. 


l#': 


S09 


ON  THE  SCANDAL  OF  CHRIST. 


How  must  St.  Paul  be  read  to  support  it  ?  Thus— 
"The  wise  things  of  this  wtorld  hath  God  chosen,  that 
He  may  confound  the  foolish;  and  the  strong  things, 
that  He  may  confound  the  weak  ;  and  the  things  that 
•re,  that  He  may  confound  those  that  are  not" 

But  Jesus  Christ  spake  not,  and  did  not,  thus.  I^et 
us,  on  the  other  hand,  imagine  St  Peter  and  St  Paul, 
with,  perhaps,  Aquila  and  Prisca,  and  Linus  and  Clem- 
ent, standing  at  the  gate  of  this  city,  the  fisherman 
and  the  tent-maker,  in  their  outlandish  uncouth  garbs, 
looking  through  the  lines  of  the  ferocious  guards  into 
its  hard,  ungenial  heart  Patricians  and  ladies  of  high- 
est rank ;  corrupted  citizens,  steeped  in  idleness  and 
lujrary ;  philosophers  and  sophists,  orators  and  poets, 
with  an  imperial  court  uniting  eveiy  element  of  man's 
highest  powers  and  attainments :  such  are  the  inhabi- 
tants :  while  every  material  object  exhibits  grandeur 
or  beauty,  whatever  can  excite  admiration,  or  inspire 
attachment  to  things  of  this  earth.  It  is  to  these  men 
that  they  are  sent,  to  induce  them  to  uproot  and  oast 
off  all  these  feelings. 

la  it  on  a  fool's  errand  that  they  are  come  1  Shall 
they  turn  back,  or,  like  Jonas,  enter  in  and  boldly 
preach  penance,  or  the  wrath  to  come  ? 

If  their  steps  faltered  for  a  moment,  and  they  re- 
quired encouragement,  we  may  easily  imagine  such 
words  as  these  to  have  come  down  from  Heaven ;  or 
rather  the  remembrance  of  them  to  have  echoed  in 
their  hearts :—"  Fear  not,  little  flock,  for  it  hath  well 
pleased  your  Father  to  give  you  a  kingdom."  (Luke, 
aril  82.) 

Yea,  this  kingdom ;  this  empire  at  whose  gate  ye 


WiWiit*nMNi<w«ntw4Mi«<^^^ 


mmbMRbMmr.-i 


^ 


?  Thuft— 
hosen,  that 
)Dg  things, 
things  that 
not." 

thus.  Let 
id  St.  Pad, 
1  and  Cltim- 
I  flsherman 
outh  garbs, 
guards  into 
lies  of  higb- 
ilcness  and 
and  poets, 
snt  of  man^s 
the  inhabi- 
■a  grandeur 
1,  or  inspire 
o  these  men 
ot  and  oast 

mel    Shall 
and  boldly 

nd  they  re- 
lagine  such 
Heaven;  or 
9  ecboed  in 
it  hath  well 
(Luke, 

083  gate  ye 


OK  THE  SCANDAL  OF   CHRIHT. 


203 


itand.  Go  on,  and  fear  not,  little  flock.  This  city  is 
wise,  and  you  are  foolish ;  it  is  strong,  and  you  weak ; 
it  great,  you  little ;  it  rich,  you  poor ;  it  noble,  you 
abject.  But  remember,  again,  this  city,  and  the  em- 
pire which  it  commands,  is  as  the  huge  mass,  inert 
and  helpless  ;  you  the  small  handful  of  leaven  to  be 
thrown  into  it,  and  ferment  it.  It  is  as  a  corrupting 
and  perishing  provision  for  the  grave ;  you  are  the 
few  grains  of  sidt  that  will  refreshen  it  In  both,  it  is 
the  lesoer  that  overcomes  and  transmutes  the  greater. 

Thank  God,  my  brethren,  tliat  it  was  so  then ;  or 
the  world  would  never  have  been  converted.  For  the 
little  flock  walked  on ;  that  loathsome  heap  of  pagan 
corruption  was  salted ;  that  mass  of  lifeless  learning 
was  fermented ;  and  Christian  civilization,  and  Chris- 
tian wisdom,  sprang  from  the  quickened,  re-animated 
decay. 

And  "  the  kingdom"  became  Peter's,  and  this  city, 
as  its  capital.  But  it  was  from  a  cross  that  he  ruled 
over  it.  He  bore  to  the  end  the  scandal  of  that  cross, 
■which  his  good  Master  told  him,  too  truly,  would  at 
first  make  him  fly.  Instead  of  its  being  his  stumbling- 
block,  it  became,  and  remained,  his  strength ;  and  he 
bequeathed  to  imperial  Rome,  for  ever,  the  two-fold 
legacy  of  the  Wisdom  of  God,  and  the  Power  of  God 
which  are  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  Him  crucified.  Blessed 
is  he  who  is  not  scandalized  in  either. 


M 


SERMON   X. 
trittttitrlnt  ti  ttit  (Rtm.* 

QAh.  vi.  14. 

"Qod  teUd  that  I  ilioald  glory,  mto  only  in  the  croa  of  our  Lord 
JonuChiiat" 

To  tboee,  dear  brethren,  who  were  witneases  of  the 
Bcenes  which  the  Church  is  now  about  to  commemo- 
rate, thei-e  must  have  appeared  a  strange  and  almost 
unnatural  contrast  between  the  triumphal  entry  our 
blessed  Saviour  made  this  day  into  Jerusalem,  and  the 
sad  close  of  His  agonizing  sufferings  upon  Calvary. 
How  many  may  have  been  tempted  in  their  folly  to 
say,  when  they  saw  Him  stretched  as  a  victim  on  the 
cross:  "How  little,  on  the  firet  day  of  the  week,  did 
He  expect  to  meet  so  ignominious  an  end  1 "  How 
would  they  be  able  to  reconcile  in  their  minds,  with 
foreknowledge  of  His  subsequent  death  upon  that 
cross,  His  entiy  into  Jerusalem  upon  the  first  day  of 
that  eventful  week,  when  the  garments  of  mcfn  were 
strewn  upon  His  path,  when  palms  of  triumph  were 
waved  around  Him,  and  hoaannas  of  welcome  echoed 
through  the  air  I  Oh,  how  little  indeed  could  any  one 
have  anticipated  that  it  would  all  come  to  this  deso- 
late close  I 

But  any  one  endowed  with  Christian  foresight,  any 

•  DdiTcnd  »t  St.  Geoige'a  Gathednl,  oo  PiObi  Simday,  1848. 


MliiilMMaiHMiHtiMiriH^^ 


f  our  Laid 


iBses  of  the 
coramemo- 
and  almost 
I  entry  our 
em,  and  the 
m  Cnlvaiy. 
eir  folly  to 
ctim  on  the 
3  week,  did 
id  1 "  How 
minds,  with 
upon  that 
firat  day  of 
f  mcfn  were 
umph  were 
:ome  echoed 
»uld  any  one 
D  this  deso- 

►r^ight,  any 

iM,j,  1849. 


TRIUMPHS  OF  TUS  CROeS. 


205 


one  who  contemplated  these  scenes  in  the  spirit  of  St. 
Paul,  expressed  in  the  words  of  my  text,  would  in- 
deed have  well  comprehended,  that  it  was  but  one 
mystery,  from  first  to  last ;  that  He,  who  was  this  day 
riding  into  Jerusalem  amid  the  congratulations  of  the 
people,  knew  full  well  that  those  same  voices  that  were 
that  day  raised  in  rejoicing,  would,  in  five  days  more, 
swell  the  outcry  that  raised  Him  to  the  cross.  Even  we, 
my  brethren,  well  know  that  in  the  course  of  a  few 
days  our  heads  will  be  bowed  down  in  grief  and  sym- 
pathy for  our  blessed  Redeemer's  suflTerings ;  we  fore- 
see full  well  that  we  shall  cast  ourselves  in  sad  and 
naked  sorrow  upon  the  pavement  of  this  church,  and 
weep  with  the  daughters  of  Jerusalem  for  Him,  treas- 
ure of  our  heai't's  love,  scorned,  persecuted,  and 
bruised,  the  object  of  hatred  and  contempt,  proceed- 
ing with  faint  and  weary  steps  to  complete  His  sacri- 
fice on  Calvary.  And  yet,  though  foreseeing  and 
knowing  all  this,  we  cannot  resist  raising  our  heads  in 
triumph  this  day,  and  hailing  with  holy  joy  oar  bless- 
ed Redeemer,  not  merely  by  words,  but  by  acts  of 
Bolenm  worship,  imitative  as  far  as  possible  of  the 
piety  of  those  who  then  surrounded  Him,  and  wel- 
comed Him,  as  the  King  of  Sion  and  the  Lord  of 
Israel.  Yes,  because  we  know  what  St.  Paul  knew, 
what  the  true  believer  must  then  have  known,  that 
this  only  triumph  which  Jesus  permitted  Himself  on 
earth,  was  in  truth  but  the  first  of  one  unbroken 
chain  of  conquests,  the  first  step  in  a  great  work,  that 
was  to  be  completely  crowned  with  victory.  And 
even  as  He  came  into  Jerusalem,  meekly  riding  on  an 
ass,  so  in  the  couree  of  time,  and  through  successive 


toe 


TRIUMPHS  OF  TITB  OROm. 


ages,  entered  He  into  royal  and  inoperial  cities,  and 
iuccemfnlly  claimed  them  for  His  own,  until  H*»  took 
unto  Himself  the  mlo  of  the  kingdoms  of  this  vrorld. 
That  triumph,  too,  was  but  the  type  of  another  and 
greater,  when  He  is  to  appear  glorious  among  the 
choir  of  angels ;  and  the  sign  of  the  Son  of  Man  is  to 
be  seen  triumphant  in  the  heavens.  Yes,  the  triumph 
of  this  day  is  the  triumph  of  the  cross.  It  is  the 
triumph  of  Christ  crucified ;  it  is  the  triumph,  indeed, 
of  the  law  of  humiliation  ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  it  is 
the  triumph  of  the  New  Law  of  God.  Oh,  then,  on 
this  day,  God  forbid  that  J  should  glory  in  aught  save 
the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesa^  Christ,  or  that  I  should 
speak  to  you  on  this  the  first  evening  of  a  solenm 
period,  commemorative  of  our  Saviour's  Passion,  of 
anything  else  than  of  that  which  should  absorb  our 
thoughts,  which  should  engross  our  affections  through- 
out tins  holy  season  1 

Yes,  my  brethren,  this  is  the  day  on  whicl  the  cross 
of  Chiist  is  to  be  contemplated  triumphant ;  as  on 
Friday  next  we  shall  have  to  dwell  on  its  humiliation 
and  pain.  I  will  speak  to  you,  therefore,  of  the  tri- 
umph of  the  cross  of  Christ :  and  show  you  how  from 
this  day,  on  which  it  began,  it  has  endured  in  the 
Church  of  God  until  our  own  time,  as  it  will  continue 
to  the  end.  I  will  show  yon  how  the  cross  of  Christ 
was  a  cross  of  triumph  in  this  world ;  and  how, 
although  it  was  the  instrument  of  His  sufferings,  and 
the  altar  of  His  sacrifice,  it  has  literally  conquered  the 
world,  nay,  become  its  very  pride  and  glory — conquer^ 
ing  it  materially,  conquering  it  morally,  conquering  it 
spiritually. 


""*i       * 


i  cities,  and 

til  He  took 

'  this  vrorld. 

mother  and 

among  the 

)f  Man  is  to 

the  triamph 

It  is  the 

nph,  indeed, 

le  time,  it  is 

3h,  then,  on 

1  aaght  save 

lat  I  shonld 

>f  a  solemn 

Passion,  of 

absorb  our 

}ns  through- 

ici  the  cross 
hant ;  as  on 
humiliation 
),  of  the  tr^ 
u  how  from 
ared  in  the 
^ill  continue 
988  of  Christ 
;  and  how, 
leringa,  and 
>nquered  the 
y — conquer* 
>nqaering  it 


WfS^ 


TRIUKPHS  OF  rmt  OROM. 


SOT 


The  word  of  God  has  given  us  in  an  early  page 
(.Ind.  ix.)  a  beautiful  allegory,  in  which  the  trees  of 
the  forest  are  represented  as  debating,  one  with  the 
othtir,  who  should  be  their  king;  and  we  might 
almost,  without  a  figure,  make  ourselves  conceive  that 
there  was  some  such  contest  in  the  days  of  our  Ke- 
deeraer.  I  would  rather,  however,  place  the  thought 
before  you  in  a  more  simple  and  natural  form.  No 
doubt,  my  brethren,  there  were  in  the  forests  of  Jndea, 
at  the  time  of  our  blessed  Saviour,  many  fair  and 
stately  trees.  There  was  the  lofty  and  beautifully 
tapering  pine,  that  rosa  above  its  fellows,  and  seemed 
with  its  topm(»t  branches  to  woo  for  itself  the  purer 
atmosphere  of  heaven.  There  was  the  royal  cedar, 
that  spread  itself  forth  on  every  side,  and  covered 
with  its  shadow  a  vast  extent  of  land.  We  mav  ira- 
agine  the  proud  possrasor  of  this  noble  growth  of  the 
forest  come,  and,  looking  with  complacency  on  the 
riches  which  .he  held,  give  orders  as  to  how  their 
worth  should  be  realized  into  wealth.  He  says  to  the 
forester,  "  See  that  elegant  and  towering  tree,  which 
has  now  reached  the  maturity  of  its  growth,  how 
nobly  will  it  rise  above  the  splendid  galley,  and  bear 
itself,  in  the  fell  fury  of  the  wind,  without  breaking 
or  bending,  and  carry  the  riches  of  the  earth  from  one 
flourishing  port  to  another.  Gut  it  down,  and  destine 
it  for  this  noble  work.  And  this  magnifloent  cedar, 
overcasting  all  around  it  with  the  solemnity  of  its 
shade,  worthy  to  have  been  built  by  Solomon  into  the 
temple  of  God,  such  that  David  might  have  sung  its 
praises  on  his  inspired  lyre ;  let  it  be  carefully  and 
brilliantly  polished,  and  embarked  to  send  to  the  im- 


.0 


'•V.HiKi'lf.f-ff, 


S08 


TRIUMFia  or  TUl  OBOOt. 


•* 


porial  city,  there  to  adorn  tho«e  magnificent  lialln,  in 
which  all  the  splendor  of  Rome  is  gathc-rttd ;  and 
there,  richly  gilded  and  adorned,  it  shall  be  an  object 
of  admiration  for  ages  to  come."  "  It  is  woll,  my 
lord,"  replies  his  servant,  "but  this  strange,  this 
worthless  tree,  which  seems  presumptaously  to  spring 
up,  beneath  the  shadow  of  those  splendid  shnftn,  what 
■hall  we  do  with  it  t  for  what  shall  it  be  destined  ?  it 
is  fitted  for  no  great,  no  noble  work."  "  Cut  it  down, 
and,  if  of  no  other  use,  why,  it  will  make  a  cross  for 
the  first  malefactor ! "  Oh,  strange  counsels  of  men  I 
That  soaring  pine,  perhaps,  after  a  few  years,  dashed 
the  freight  that  it  bore  against  the  rocks,  and  rolled, 
the  worthless  fragment  of  a  wreck,  upon  the  beach ; 
and  that  noble  cedar,  which  witnessed  the  revels  of 
imperial  Rome,  fell  by  the  earthquake  beneath  the 
arm  of  avenging  justice,  or  in  tlu'  fire  that  the  barba- 
rian kindled  iu  those  splendid  halls,  fell  charred  into 
their  heap  of  rains,  and  the  winda  of  heaven  wafted 
its  ashes  over  the  land. 

But  that  ignoble  tree,  that  despised  trank,  which 
men  spurned  as  of  no  value  save  to  be  put  to  the 
most  ignominious  of  uses,-- oh  I  that  tree,  that  cross 
which  upon  Calvary  bore  the  price  of  the  world's  re- 
demption, ^at  tree  has  been  gathered  up  and  treasurt>d 
and  enshrined,  as  though  its  every  fragment  was  worth 
more  than  gold ;  yea,  so  far  beyond  it,  that  it  would 
be  as  the  sin  of  Simon  the  magician  to  offer  *the 
world's  treasure  for  one  of  its  smallest  portions.  And 
thus  has  this  cross,  this  contemptible  tree,  risen  above 
all  that  the  w^orld  is  worth,  in  value  to  the  Christian 
heart ;  and  not  only  now,  but  in  every  age,  has  it 


ifeMMMMMiMMi 


T 


it  hallo,  ia 
tiert)d ;  and 
lo  au  object 
a   well,  my 


raagu, 


thb 


y  to  Mpntig 
ihaftM,  what 
Itistined  t  it 
!ut  it  down, 

a  croM  for 
)l8  of  mun ! 
lars,  daahed 
and  roh<id, 
the  beach ; 
10  reveli)  of 
>eneath  the 

the  barba- 
harred  into 
veu  wafted 

mnk,  which 
put  to  the 
),  that  croaa 
>  world's  re- 
id  treasurfd 
t  was  worth 
lat  it  would 
;o  offer  *the 
doDS.  And 
risen  above 
le  Christian 
age,  has  it 


TKiUMi'ita  or  TiiB  cBoaai 


209 


been  considm-ed  worth  all  that  tho  world  doat«  and 
iet«  iU  heart  on.  For  that  wood,  that  materinl  wood 
of  the  cross  of  Christ,  an  empresn  crotwwd  the  was,  and 
searched  among  the  silent  tombs  of  the  doatl.  For 
that  which  was  thonght  a  vile  and  co.itemptible  thing, 
war  ^)uilt  a  magnificent  church  on  Mount  Sion.  For 
that  wood,  the  Emperor  Ileraclius  made  war  against 
the  King  of  Persia ;  and  when  he  had  recovered  it, 
bore  it,  as  his  Master  had  before^  barefoot,  and  in  an 
humble  garb,  to  Calvary.  For  that  trse,  Constan. 
tine,  the  great  emperor,  built  a  most  valuable  church, 
yet  standing  among  the  ruins  of  the  palaces  of  Rome, 
and  brought  the  very  earth  from  our  Saviour's  own 
land ;  as  though  none  other  were  worthy  to  be  there, 
save  that  upon  which  the  precious  fruit  of  redemptiou 
had  first  fallen,  in  the  life-giving  blood  of  our  blessed 
Redeemer. 

And  from  that  time  His  Church  aaa  considered  this 
relic  as  one  of  the  greatest  treasures  entrusted  to  her 
keeping,  and  all  in  it  have  been  ambitious  of  pos- 
sessing but  a  small  fragment  thereof.  Our  own 
country,  too,  saw  some  of  its  noblest  fabrics  dedicated 
to  religion,  rise  to  the  honor  and  the  glory  of  that 
holy  rood  of  Christ.  When  thus  we  see  what  was 
but  a  fragment  of  the  tree  of  ignominy  so  valued, 
that  gold  and  precious  stones,  and  whatsoever  the 
World  most  priaes,  are  deemed  but  worthy  to  form  its 
shrine  and  outward  vesture,  and  noble  temples  piled 
up  with  the  richest  materials  and  the  noblest  produc- 
tions of  art,  thought  fit  only  to  house  and  shelter  it ; 
may  we  not  truly  say,  that  the  very  wood  of  Christ's 
cross  has  achieved  a  triumph  over  the  world,  tramp- 

14 


'% 


SIO 


TRiuMPiw  or  mt  cnom. 


llnpf  nndor  It,  and  mndflrinjif  ttibjoct  tntl  ■ubwrvienfc 
to  itn'if,  whnt  f<iriun  tho  hoiiiit,  ariil  |Kinip,  anil  pride 
of  that  world  I  And  what  wan  our  Savioar'i  honora- 
ble entry  into  JerunnUmi,  hut  tho  firnt  «ti»p  in  thi» 
triunipluil  progromi  of  His  crow  over  all  tho  glob*, 
•howing  that  it  derived  from  Him  a  value  beyond 
all  that  earth  can  ponsenal  And  thun,  even  ma- 
torially,  haa  the  crow  of  Chruit  triumphed  over  the 
world. 

But  what  is  this,  my  brethren,  compared  with  the 
great  moral  triuinph  which  the  cross  of  Christ  haa 
Achieved  t    Let  us  cast  our  eyes  over  the  world  imme- 
diately after  our  blessed  Saviour's  glorious  ascension  to 
Heaven.     Vi'-s  see  going  forth  from  the  lan«l  of  Judea 
a  few  radi  and  illiterate  men,  without  fort.jne,  with- 
out station,  without  reputation,  without  estimation  bo- 
fore  the  world.     I  see  one,  like  Bartholomew,  go  nn- 
dnunted  into  the  frozen  regions  of  the  north  ;  another, 
like  Thomas,  penetrating  amidst  the  effeminate  peo- 
ple of  the  south.    I  see  James  wandering  through  the 
barbarian  lands  of  the  extreme  west ;  and  Peter  and 
P&ul,  anxious  and  thoughtful,  no  doubt,  but  still  cidm 
and  confident,  proceeding  on  th'      r  alertly  hopeless 
mission  entrueied  to  them,  and  fftt^'*-!')"  on  foot  ihi 
imperial  city,  there  about  to  coium-uco  the  work  of 
converting   that   immense    and    corrupt  jMpulation. 
They  have  been  sent  forth  without  scrip  or  staff;  they 
are  poor  in  every  way;   they  bring  with  them  no 
books  of  hidden  lore;   they  employ  no  wonderful 
flights  of  poetry  or  of  eloquence,  by  which  to  con- 
vinoe  or  to  allure.    Yet  I  see  each  of  them  surrounded 
by  a  multitude  eager  to  listen  to  his  teaching,  and  no 


vmoMPiiii  or  Tiip;  cw 


itilMArvient 
),  iinil  prtild 
ar'ii  honor** 
tep  in  thifl 
the  glob*, 
luo  l)«yond 
,  even  m*- 
id  over  ib« 

(m1  with  the 
ChrtRt  hM 
rorld  imm<^ 
Mcension  to 
ad  of  Jodea 
trtjne,  with- 
timation  }w- 
new,  go  nn- 
th ;  another, 
iminate  \ieo 
through  the 
1  Peter  and 
tut  still  cidin 
•tly  hopeless 
on  foot  ihfi 
the  work  of 
population, 
r  stafT;  they 
ith  them  no 

0  wonderful 
bicb  to  eon- 

1  surrounded 
hing,  and  no 


111 


less  (>agor  to  practi.ie  what  is  taught  I  see  in  thos« 
fafitni^nJM^a  of  Armeuia  th«  royal  pri{ic6fi>i  knetil  h«ft»re 
the  i^oor  cniiii«ai*y  of  Gnlil«4>,  and  ntrvtch  out  ht?r 
trem«s  to  he  out  o{V,  that  she  may  thus  runonncA  every 
love  hut  the  One  that  wm  not  of  earth.  I  see  the 
learned  men  of  thosb  southern  regions,  wedded,  by 
ages  of  solemn  sjwcnlAlion,  to  the  religious  traditions 
of  their  country,  give  them  up  willingly,  desiroun  no 
longer  to  bathe  in  their  sacred  rivers,  but  to  bo  washed 
in  the  laver  of  salvation,  by  the  word  of  God'i  mini»> 
ter.  And  in  Rome  I  see,  not  merely  the  learned  phi* 
losophera  anxious  to  become  acquainttul  with  this  new 
religious  system ;  not  only  the  virtuous  household  of 
a  Pudens,  or  other  senator,  wherein  purity  and  morali- 
ty already  prevailed,  interested  about  the  new  doc- 
trine ;  but  I  see  Nero  himself,  trembling  upon  his 
throne,  at  the  prospect  of  success  which  already  shows 
itself,  in  the  simple  teaching  of  these  men.  And 
what  is  the  lure,  what  is  the  bait,  whereby  they  draw 
thus  abont  them,  and  lead  in  willing  captivity,  these 
subject  nations  ?  Has  the  lyre  of  the  fabulous  Or> 
pheus  been  put  into  the  possession  of  him  who  has 
travelled  into  Scytbia,  so  as  to  charm  around  him  its 
grim  and  savage  tribes  ?  or  has  he  who  hath  gone 
into  the  south  borne  with  him  the  sword  of  Alexan* 
der,  to  subdue  it8  effeminate  population  ?  or  have 
they  who  penetrated  the  imperial  city  polished  their 
tongaes,'  and  prepared  themselves  well  to  Qatch  the 
ear  of  a  voloptuous  race,  with  a  soft  and  flattering 
philosophy?  No,  my  brethren,  each  and  all,  however 
different  his  missioQ,  goes  forth  with  but  one  charm,  one 
instrument  of  conquest,  with  bnt  one  augury  of  success. 


I 


^^ 


■BJ 


819 


TRIUMPHS   OF  THK  CROSS. 


Each  takes  in  his  hand  the  cross  of  Christ,  and 
preaches,  not  the  preverse  words  of  human  wisdom, 
but  Him,  and  Him  crucified,  alone.  He  raises  alofb 
thai  cross,  which  is  the  symbol  of  patience  and  resig- 
nation, which  sanctifies  humility  and  self-abasement, 
which  consecrates  povrerty,  and  elevates  into  more 
than  a  stoical  endurance  a  renunciation  of  the  things 
of  the  world.  "With  this,  and  this  alone,  they  wei*e 
able  to  subdue  the  savage  in  the  north,  and  the  soft 
half-civilized  Brahmin  in  the  south,  and  the  luxurious, 
haughty,  and  self-sufficient  Roman  ; — with  one  single 
weapon,  by  the  power  of  the  cross,  bringing  them  all 
into  subjection  to  Christ's  law,  making  of  them  one 
kingdom,  but  one  empire,  but  one  people,  but  one 
Church,  but  one  body,  closely  united  to  Him,  its  cruci- 
fied Head.  Thus,  by  degrees,  in  spite  of  every  oppo- 
sition of  the  world  to  Christ^  conquests,  the  day  soon 
comes  when  the  glory  of  that  cross  covers  the  earth, 
as  the  water  covers  the  sea. 

But  a  new  generation  thinks  it  necessary  to  unsheath 
the  sword  and  light  up  the  faggot,  in  order  to  quench 
at  once  this  rising,  as  they  deem  it,  superstition.  Yet 
in  vain :  that  cross  which  a  few  years  before  was  the 
badge  of  ignominy,  that  cross  which  the  Roman  was 
not  allowed  even  to  speak  of, — ^the  very  name  of  which 
was  a  word  excluded  from  polished  conversation, — 
that  orcis,  upon  which  none  but  the  slave  was  doomed 
to  die  in  the  imperial  city,  becomes  the  very  crowning 
summit  of  the  diadem  of  the  Csesars.  But,  in  effecting 
this;^  in  making  this  change  through  the  whole  earth, 
in  bringing  all  nations  into  this  subjection,  what  a 
variety  of  triumphs  weie  'lecessary;  in  how  many 


►f  Christ,  and 
man  wisdom, 
e  raises  aloft 
uce  and  resig- 
;lf-abasement, 
SB  into  more 
of  the  things 
ne,  they  wei*e 
,  and  the  soft 
the  luxurious, 
th  one  single 
^ing  them  all 
of  them  one 
)ple,  but  one 
dxm^  its  cruci- 
f  every  oppo- 
the  day  soon 
)ra  the  earth, 

7  to  unsheath 
ler  to  quench 
rstition.  Yet 
efore  was  the 
e  Roman  was 
lame  of  which 
►nversation, — 
3  was  doomed 
^ery  crowning 
it,  in  effecting 
)  whole  earth, 
ction,  wliat  a 
n  how  many 


TBIUMPirS  or  THE  CROSS. 


213 


ways  was  the  worid,  in  its  affections,  to  be  mortified, 
to  be  annihilated,  before  it  would  wear  that  badge  of 
disgrace.    Behold  in  mind  the  Christian  of  those  days 
brought  before  the  tribunal  of  the  emperor.    See  him 
asked,  with  a  haughty  glance,  a  look,  a  tone,  and  ges^ 
ture  that  strike  terror  into  the  satellites  around  that 
tribunal,  "  Who  art  thou,  and  what  art  thou  ?»    And 
the  questioned  answers  not  in  words,  but  as  we  fre- 
quently read  in  the  simple  and  genuine  records  of  the 
ancient  martyrs,  raising  his  hand,  signs  his  forehead 
or  his  entire  body  with  the  sign  of  the  cross:  and  he 
who  sits  oa  the  judgment-seat  well  understands  its 
meaning.    It  seems  to  say  to  him  at  once,  "I  am  a 
worahipper,  I  am  a  lover  of  Him  who  suffered  upon 
the  cros9,  and  died  on  it,  to  purchase  for  me  infinitely 
more  than  thou  canst  do  for  me.    I  spurn  the  honor, 
wealth,  and  station  that  thou  pi-offerest,  and  I  oonfi- 
dently  and  lovingly  cling  to  this  sacred  symbol,  em- 
blematic  though  it  be,  of  what  you  call  foolishness,  of 
that  which  you  despise.    It  ateures  me  that  by  virtue 
of  the  cross  I  shall  be  shielded  from  evil,  that  I  shall 
be  able  to  do  battle  against  the  world  in  its  most 
fearftil  shapes,  to  conquer  it  not  only  when  it  is  allur- 
ing and  tempting,  but  when  it  crushes  and  destroys. 
It  tells  me  that  I  may  mock  at  your  boiling  cauldrons, 
at  your  heated  gridirons,  your  ingenious  racks,  your 
pointed  swords,  your  sharpened  hatchets,  and  the  thou- 
sand instruments  of  death  that  you  have  prepared.     I 
scorn  all,  and  over  all  of  them  I  will  ride  triumphant  to 
the  heavenly  Sion,  because  Christ  my  Saviour  hath 
triumphed  before  me:  nay,  I  welcome  these  dreadful 
forms  of  death,  because  they  will  bring  me  to  Him 


■■'■^ 


mm 


fl,^  TBIUMPHA  OP  THE  CROSS. 

who  redeemed  me  on  the  cross."  Yes,  in  that  sign  of 
the  cro#  waa  the  profesBian  of  faith ;  in  that  sign  of 
tiie  cross  was  expression  of  hope:  ip  that  sign  of  the 
crosi  was  ohifit^  symbolised  the  most  perfect  For 
this  the  CkAian  martyr  of  old  suffered  and  endured 
all,  because^is  saw  in  angels'  embrace  the  cross  of 
Ohri^  shining  in  the  heavens,  shedding  forth^iays 
into  bis  very  heart,  which  warmed,  and  kindled,  and 
strengthened  unto  auirtyrdom,  and  made  him  despise 
the  tormente  of  this  world,  because  Chiist  had  first 
been  cioicified'and  died  upon  that  cross. 

This,  too,  was  the  strength  of  those,  whom  the  ter- 
rors of  persecution  drove  forth  from  the  haunts  of 
men.    Go  into  those  trackless  deserts  of  Africa,  through 
which,  in  paasinp^,  a  conquering  army  would  |ppn  faint 
^nd  lose  strength,  and  drop  piecemeal  and  dissolve 
amid  the  burning  sands,— those  sands  which,  before  or 
since,  the  industry  of  man  never  made  to  produce  a 
single  blade  of  grass ;  and  see  hundreds  and  thousands 
of  men  either  gathered  together  and  living  in  common, 
or  each  alone,  in  his  silent  cell,  by  some  brackish  foun- 
tain,  or  beneath  the  shade  of  some  solitary  palm.    See 
them  there,  not  for  a  few  years,  but  through  a  long 
life  of  seventy  or  eighty  years,  like  Anthony  or  Hila- 
lion.    No  splendid  temples  are  there  to  excite  their 
devotion,  no  well-furnished  library  of  books  whence  to 
draw  or  improve  their  ascetic  lore ;  nay,  scarcely  have 
many  the  power  even  to  turn  over  the  sacred  volume, 
tmd  learn  from  its  pages  the  heroic  virtues  that  they 
practise.    But  God  gives  them  strength  for  this  severe 
and  appai-ently  unnatural  seclusion.    And  what  is  its 
source?     Two  broken  reeds  fastened  together,  and 


-jrf*: 


ii^_^ LjUJi^. .1-11-1  in      I.   I.         I    "  ' 


TRIUMPHS  OF  THS  CROSS. 


916 


t  sign  of 
t  sign  of 
n  of  tbe 
jct  For 
endured 
cross  of 
>rthii«»y8 
lied,  and 
n  despise 
had  first 

I  the  tei> 
aaunts  of 
h,  through 

rpn  faint 
dissolve 
before  or 
produce  a 
thousands 
I  common, 
kish  foun* 
aim.    See 
th  a  long 
y  or  Hila- 
ccite  their 
ivhence  to 
rcely  have 
d  volume, 
that  they 
^his  severe 
vbat  is  its 
sther,  and 


-a^:  ii 


rudely  fashioned  into  a  cross,  stand  upon  the  fragment 
of  rock,  before  which  the  j^nchorite  sitfe  at  his  daily 
labor.  Or  go  io,  and  you  will  find  the  same  sacred 
symbol  roughly  cut  in  the  rock  of  bis  cell.  Before 
this  he  kneels,  before  this  he  prays,  before  this  he 
meditates;  there  he  fills  himself  with  the  spirit  of 
Christ  crucified,  and  strength  and  courage  for  forty  or 
fifty  years  of  a  life  of  solitude,  and  complete  separation 
from  the  world.  He  has  trampled  on  that  world,  he 
has  triumphed  over  all  its  temptations,  nourished  only 
and  strengthened  by  that  cross  of  Christ,  which  has 
been  the  food  of  his  pions  thoughts,  and  a  heavenly 
manna  in  the  wilderness,  to  his  soul 

And  my  brethren,  thus  might  we  proceed  for  age 
after  a^in  contemplating  the  lives  of  those  emin^t 
Saints  of  God,  who  astonish  ua  by  the  brilliancy  of 
their  virtues.  In  every  one  we  shall  find  that  the 
cross  was  deeply  engraven  on  their  hearts ;  that  that 
alone  was  their  comfort  in  aflliction,  their  consolation 
in  hidden  sorrow,  their  strength  in  weakness  and  temp- 
tation. It  was  at  the  foot  of  the  crucifix,  that  the 
depths  of  Christian  philosophy  were  explored,  that 
the  purest  light  of  Christian  theology  was  sought  and 
obtained;  and  they  who  have  thus  studied,  not  in 
themselves  but  in  Christ  crucified,  have  owned,  like 
the  great  angelic  doctor  of  the  Church,  that  from  the 
crucifix,  rather  than  from  the  illumination  of  their  own 
minds,  they  drew  their  knowledge.  And  such  have 
ever  been  rewarded  by  the  approving  words,  addressed 
to  them  from  the  rood,  "  Thou  hast  written  well  of 
Me ;  what  shall  be  thy  reward  ?" 

But,  my  brethren,  in  every  rank  of  life  we  see  this 


wmmtim 


-wma^ 


mSm 


216 


TEIUMPira  OP  THE  CROSS. 


cross  achieving  new  triumphs,  accomplishing  new  won* 
ders ;  not  only  in  the  wilds  of  heathendom,  but  in  the 
deep  recesses  of  the  civilized  heart,  forming  thus  the 
spiritual  triumph  of  the  cross  of  Christ.    There  have 
been  kings  great  and  poweiful,  surrounded  by  all  that 
could  make  even  a  throne  more  valuable ;  not  in  days 
such  at  these  when  a  crown  is  but  a  painful  bauble  and 
easily  cast  aside,  but  when  a  crown  was,  indeed,  a 
noble  thing,  and  when  kings  were  great  and  honored ; 
yet  even  in  those  days  kings  would  come  to  the  foot 
of  the  altar,  and  would  there  lay  down  their  diadems, 
and  assume  in  its  stead  the  religious  cowl;  and  join- 
ing the  ranks  of  an  austere  community,  would  praise 
God  vrith  those  their  poor  brethren,  and  devote  them- 
selves to  His  service  for  the  rest  of  their  lives.    And 
what  was  this,  my  brethren,  but  a  triumph  of  the 
cross,  what  but  an   acknowledgment  that  it  was  bet- 
ter to  be  like  the   King  of  Heaven  than  a  king 
of  earth,  better  to  be  a  worshipper  at  the  cross  of 
Christ,  than  one  of  the  noble  and  illustrious  of  earth  ? 
There  have  been,  my  brethren,  in  eveiy  rank  of 
life,>_and  this,  in   a  Catholic  pulpit,  may  be  con- 
sidered as  almost   common-place, — there   have   been 
amongst  those  brought  up  in  luxury  and  eveiy  thing 
that  could  wed  them  to  the  world,  whether  by  the 
gentleness  of  their  sex  or  the  tenderness  of  their  edu- 
cation, many  who  have  fled  from  that  woi-ld  and  its 
flowery  fascinations,  and  have  chosen  rather  to  tread 
the  rough,  and  thorny,  and  narrow  path.    And  why  ? 
Because  upon  the  summit  of  that  sacred  monnt  to 
which  it  leads,  there  was  planted  that  cross  of  Christ 
towai-ds  which  their  looks  ever  turned ;  nor  were  they 


limn      ». 


r»l 


TRIUMPHS   OF  THE  iROtifi. 


21Y 


able  to  see  around  them  aught  that  won  their  affec- 
tions like  thia.  And  therefore  towards  it  they  directed 
their  steps,  in  the  lowly  garb  of  religion,  serving  God 
in  humility  and  holy  contemplation,  or  devoting  them- 
selves  for  their  lives  to  the  service  of  the  poor  and 
sick,  even  as  did  their  great  model,  the  Man  of  sor- 
rows, who  expired  on  Calvary. 

It  would  be  an  endless  task,  ray  dearly  beloved 
brethren,  to  enumerate  the  multitude  of   ways  in 
which  the  cross  of  Christ  has  triumphed  in  the  hearts 
of  men,  triumphed  over  their  weakness  and  tbeii* 
strength,  over  the  violence  of  their  passions,  and  over 
the  feebleness  of   their  natural  dispositions.      But 
strange,  indeed,  would  it  be,  if  the  Holy  Catholic 
Church  did  not,  in  a  multitude  of  ways,  prize  and 
honor  by  holy  ceremonies  this  sacred  emblem,  which 
i«k  to  her  not  merely  a  badge  or  ornament  to  crown 
the  outward  pinnacle  of  the  material  temple,  but  an 
emblem  engraven  on  the  heart,  a  staff  to  be  grasped 
by  the  dying  man  on  his  last  journey,  as  a  weapon 
whereby  he  is  to  beat  back  his  spiritual  foes.    And 
what  wonder  that,  'vhere  the  cross  of  Christ  has  be- 
come only  a  name,  but  is  no  longer  a  thing,  whei-e  it 
is  never  brou-^ht  before  the  minds  or  senses  of  the 
people,  there  religion  should  have  lost  all  feeling,  all 
idea  of  what  is  symbolized  by  the  cross  of  Christ ; 
that  it  should  no  longer,  know  anything  of  inward 
mortification,  or  external  penance ;  that  it  should  not 
upderstand  the  meaning  of  control  or  subjection,  or 
desired  humiliation ;  that  it  should  have  destroyed  all 
traces  of  that  inward  and  outward  affection  for  the 
cross,  which  shows  itself  in  a  thousand  different  devo- 


•mm 


218 


TRIUMPHS  OF  THE  CB08S. 


^ 


tiona  in  tlie  Holy  Catholic  Chnrch ;  such,  for  instance, 
as  that  which  I  rejoice  to  see  has  lately  been  intro- 
duced into  your  Church,  and  is   followed   with  so 
much  devotion,  the  Stations,  or  "Way  of  the  Cross ; 
that  the  cross  should  have  erased  to  be  clasped  in  the 
hands,  with  the  image  of  Christ  crucified  pressed  to 
the  lips  and  the  fluttering  heart  of  the  expiring 
Christian.    And  what  wonder  that  a  religion  like  this 
never  should  have  brought  forth  a  generous  and 
noble  youth  like  St  Aloysius,  who  renounced  his  pat- 
rimony, his  principality,  his  family  alliances,  to  attend 
thf  sick  in  the  hospital,  and  to  die  in  the  flower  of 
his  youth,  of  contagion,  caught  by  ministering  to  the 
infected  ?    What  wonder  that  such  a  system  should 
never  have  produced  one  man  like  St.  Vincent  of  Paul, 
who  could  spend  his  whole  life  in  serving  the  least 
ones  of  Christ,  gathering  up  in  the  cold  winter  morn- 
ings these  nurslings  of  charity,  outcasts  from  maternal 
affection,  thus  becoming  to  them  at  once  father  and 
mother,  and  educating  them  as  if  his  own  children  ? 
What  wonder  it  never  produced  a  man  like  St.  John 
of  God,  whose  whole  life  was  given  to  the  most  splen- 
did and  heroic  works  of  charity,  who  became  as  a 
fool  for  Christ,  shut  himself  up  day  and  night  with  the 
sick,  braved  the  flames  to  save  them,  and  died  poor 
himself,  because  he  sought  no  other  reward  than  that 
which  is  given  to  His  servants  by  their  crucified 
Master  ? 

No,  dear  brethren,  it  is  not  wonderful,  indeed,  that 
this  should  be  the  case;  but  the  Catholic  Church, 
from  the  beginning,  has  set  a  value  on  the  cross  of 
Christ,  has  treasured  it  up  even  in  its  very  material  sub- 


liitf'p'-'—  ----'■-'■•■---  ,|J,,j,.j.i|.'?j-i--v.-...-^..-...w^^v.-.--.-i»-,.-.Hi»i,ta.v«,f  „!■:  .«•■■ 


■iiriiHHtfiiiinnKliilnllii*  I'Mlii-nli 


TRIUMPHS   OP  THK   CR098. 


219 


for  instance, 
'  been  intro- 
fvred  with  so 
f  the  Cross; 
ilasped  in  the 
d  pressed  to 
the  expiring 
gion  like  this 
^enerons  and 
meed  his  pat- 
ces,  to  attend 
;he  flower  of 
itering  to  the 
^tem  should 
ncent  of  Paul, 
ing  the  least 

winter  morn- 
■rom  raaternal 
;e  father  and 
wn  children? 

like  St.  John 
he  most  splen- 

became  as  a 
night  with  the 
nd  died  poor 
ard  than  that 
bheir  crucified 

1,  indeed,  that 
holic  Church, 
a  the  cross  of 
J  material  sub- 


stance, as  more  valuable  than  all  earthly  treasure,  as 
that  whereby  she  has  conquered  the  nations  of  the 
world,  and  brought  forth  so  many  great,  heroic,  and 
splendid  specimens  of  charity  and  virtue.  Oh  !  it 
would,  indeed,  be  strange,  if  this  Church  did  not, 
when  the  time  for  the  commemoration  of  our  Saviour's 
passion  had  come  round,  show  in  a  thousand  loving 
ways,  even  in  exterior  forms,  how  her  heart  is  entirely 
in  sympathy  with  her  blessed  Redeemer,  and  the 
cross  upon  which  He  died.  Hence,  in  the  offices  for 
this  week,  there  is  a  softened  tone  of  joy  and  triumph, 
in  the  Church's  commemoration  of  the  sufferings  of 
her  Redeemer.  While,  indeed,  she  weeps  and  puts  on 
her  garments  of  mourning,  and  speaks  in  soft  and 
tender  words  to  her  children,  still  in  the  gentle  mosic 
of  her  sweet  tones,  in  the  simple  magnificence  of  her 
worship,  even  in  those  impressive  and  solemn  rites 
which  form  the  service  of  Friday,  there  is  a  mixture 
of  gladness,  subdued,  indeed,  and  as  it  were  steeped  in 
grief;  there  is  a  smile  that  will ^ fain  breakthrough 
the  teare  that  che  sheds ;  at  thinking  that  after  all  He 
who  is  thus  humbled.  He  who  is  thus  crushed  beneath 
the  weight  of  contempt,  pereecution,  and  suffering, 
will  break  the  chains  of  death  and  hell,  and  will  again 
be  seated  triumphantly  upon  His  throne ;  and  will,  by 
means  of  this  very  ignominy,  conquer  His  assailants, 
and  make  friends  of  His  foes.  She  rejoices  in  His 
sufferings,  because  they  are  the  sufferings  of  redemp- 
tion. Her  heart  beats  tenderly  for  His  afflictions,  be- 
cause they  are  the  afflictions  of  love ;  and  she  looks 
not  merely  with  awe,  but  with  complacency  and  soft 
affection,  upon  the  blood  that  flows  from  His  manifold 


»i  "  I    IMIIP 


220 


TBIUMPHS   OF  TH«  0ROB8. 


wonnds,  because  they  are  the  Btreami  of  life  which 
fill  the  cup  of  her  salvation. 

Truly,  beloved  brethi-en,  these  days  are  days  of 
•olemn  and  tender  bat  of  real  triumph  to  the  spouse 
of  Christ.    Oh  1  come  then  to  thes^  holy  offices  with 
spirits  properly  attuned  to  those  deep  and  solemn 
mysteries  which  we  are  about  to  commemorate,  and 
ready  to  beat  in  hai-mony  with  them.     Come  with  a 
desire  to  loam  and  to  improve,  and  you  will  indeed 
rejoice  in  spirit ;  when.,  having  purged  yourselves  dui^ 
ing  these  days  of  affliction  from  sin  and  all  that  is 
displeasing  to  God,  you  will  be  able  to  join  in  the 
triumphs  and  rejoicing  of  your  divine  Redeemer,  as 
He  rises  victorious  over  death,  and  opens  to  you  the 
gates  of  life.     But,  even  in  the  midst  of  that  exultar 
tion  and  triumph,  the  cross  shall  not  be  forgotten ; 
for  as  the  Church  duiing  paschal  time  suppresses  all 
other  commemorations  in  her  daily  offices,  retaining 
that  of  the  cross  alone,  so  when  our  blessed  Redeemer 
shows  himself  risen  again  to  His  apostles,  lie  desires 
to  be  recognized  as  their  Lord,  their  God,  not  by  the 
splendor  which  invests  Him,— not  the  subtle  energy 
wherewith  His  glorified  body  can  penetrate  the  closed 
doora,— but  by  the  marks  of  the  nails  in  His  hands 
and  feet,  and  by  the  precious  wound  in  Hb  side :  thus 
to  show  that,  in  His  very  glory,  He  wishes  to  be  loved 
even  as  on  Calvaiy. 

O  blessed  Jesus,  may  the  image  of  these  sacred 
wounds,  as  expressed  by  the  cross,  never  depart  from 
my  thoughts.  As  it  is  a  badge  and  privilege  of  the 
exalted  office,  to  which,  most  unworthy,  I  have  been 
raised,  to  wear  ever  upon  my  breast  the  figure  of  that 


ki^^ 


^^ri'l'lillwiWl.  W   ''iBtl'l 


f.lfc 


TBiDUpns  or  Tme  obom. 


391 


f  life  which 

are  days  of 
o  the  spouse 
'  offices  with 

and  solemn 
3inorate,  and 
Come  with  a 

will  indeed 
arselves  dur- 
d  all  that  is 

join  in  the 
Eledeemer,  as 
IB  to  you  the 

that  exultar 
)e  forgotten ; 
mppreeses  all 
ces,  retaining 
ed  Redeemer 
B,  lie  desires 
d,  not  by  the 
lubtle  energy 
Ate  the  closed 
in  His  hands 
[b  side:  thus 
IS  to  be  loved 

these  sacred 
[•  depart  from 
vilege  of  the 
,  I  have  been 
figure  of  that 


cross,  and  in  it,  as  in  a  holy  shrine,  a  fragment  of  that 
blessed  tree  whereon  Thou  didst  hang  on  Qolgotha, 
so  much  more  let  the  lively  image  of  Thee  crucified 
dwell  within  my  bosom,  and  be  the  source  from 
■which  shall  proceed  every  thought,  and  word,  and 
action  of  my  ministry !  Let  me  preach  Thee,  and 
Thee  crucified,  not  the  plausible  doctrines  of  worldly 
virtue  and  human  philosophy.  In  prayer  and  medi- 
tation let  me  ever  have  beforo  me  Thy  likeness,  as 
Thou  stretchest  forth  Thine  arms  to  invite  us  to  seek 
mercy  and  to  draw  us  into  Thine  embrace.  Let  my 
Thabor  be  on  Calvary;  there  it  is  best  for  me  to 
dwell.  There,  Thou  hast  prepared  three  tabernacles ; 
one  for  such  as,  like  Magdalen,  have  offended  much, 
bat  love  to  weep  at  Thy  blessed  feet;  one  for 
those  who,  like  John,  have  wavered  in  steadfastness 
for  a  moment,  but  long  again  to  rest  their  head  upon 
Thy  bosom ;  and  one  whereinto  only  she  may  enter, 
whose  love  burns  without  a  reproach,  whose  heart, 
always  one  r'ith  Thine,  finds  its  home  in  the  centre  of 
Thine,  fibre  intertwined  with  fibre,  till  both  are  melt- 
ed into  one,  in  that  furnace  of  sympathetic  love. 
With  these  favorites  of  the  cross,  let  me  ever,  blessed 
Saviour,  remain  in  meditation  and  prayer,  and  loving 
affection  for  Thy  holy  rood.  I  will  venerate  its  very 
substance,  whenever  presented  to  me,  with  deep  and 
solemn  reverence.  I  will  honor  its  image,  wherever 
offered  to  me,  with  lowly  and  respectful  homage.  But 
still  more  I  will  hallow  and  love  its  spirit  and  inward 
form,  impressed  on  the  heart,  and  shown  forth  in  the 
holiness  of  life.  And  oh !  divine  Redeemer,  from 
Thy  cross,  Thy  tme  mercy-seat,  look  down  in  compaa- 


f 


■MrfAk 


929 


TRIUMPHS   or  TUK  CROSS. 


iion  upon  this,  Thy  pct  ^  1§.  Ponr  forth  thence  ftbnn- 
dniitly  the  Btruanifl  of  bluBsiug,  which  flow  from  Thy 
Bacred  w^oundi.  Accomplish  within  them,  daring  thif 
week  of  forgiveness,  the  work  which  holy  men  hnve 
so  well  begun,*  that  all  may  worthily  partake  of  Thy 
Paschal  Feast.  Plant  Thy  crews  in  every  heart ;  may 
each  one  embrace  it  in  life,  may  it  embrace  him  in 
death  ;  and  may  it  be  a  beacon  of  salvation  to  his  de- 
parting sool,  a  crown  of  glory  to  bis  immortal  spirit  1 
Amen. 

•  Alhidloc  to  Um  MiMlon  Jam  flloMd  bj  the  Fkthen  of  the  Jostitata  of 
Chftrity. 


* 


■«MBa 


hence  aban* 
r  from  Thy 
daring  thif 
'  men  have 
take  of  Thy 
heart;  may 
race  him  in 
>n  to  his  de- 
)rtal  spiiitl 

:  the  TiuUtata  of 


SERMON  XI. 

« 

^rditntion  on  the  f  a^toti. 

PmuF,  IL  a 

*  Ha  bnmUed  Hloiwlf,  bMsumtng  olwdlent  onto  death,  arta  th«  dMth  of 

tb«)  cruM." 

Tmc  very  name,  my  brethren,  which  this  Sunday 
bears  in  the  Calendar  of  the  Catholic  Church,  pre- 
scribes to  ua.the  solemn  matter  which  should  occupy 
our  thoughts,  and  will  not  allow  us  to  seek  around  us 
for  other  objects  of  instruction.  For  it  hath  its  name 
from  the  dolorons  Passion  of  our  dear  Lord  and 
Saviour  Christ  Jesus ;  and  no  other  topic  can  be  found 
worthy  to  associate  in  our  minds  with  the  contempla- 
tion of  His  dying  hour.  This  is  the  house  of  mourn- 
ing  into  which  it  is  better  for  us  to  enter  than  into 
the  house  of  feasting.  From  this  d&y  till  the  celebra- 
tidh  of  His  glorious  resurrection  summon  us  to  joy, 
our  hearts  and  aflfections  must  dwell  with  His,  in  the 
desoUtion  of  Olivet,  in  the  injustice  and  cruelty  of 
Jerusalem,  and  in  the  ignominy  of  Calvary.  Yes, 
farewell  for  the  time  to  Horeb  and  its  miracles ;  to 
Sinai  and  the  terrors  of  its  law ;  to  Thabor  and  its 
magnificent  visions ;  and  let "  the  mountains  of  myrrh," 
of  bitterness  and  son-ow,  be  the  place  of  our  abode. 
Oh  1  there  will  be  a  rich  variety  of  grief,  a  plentiful 
diversity  of  afflictions  for  us  all,  and  enough  to  pre- 


r 


MMkMKa 


S84 


rATIOir   Olf    fMl   PABHIOW. 


Tent  wearinew  in  iiny.  Thure  tht\\  he  sympathy  for 
th«  vii  tuoui,  ftiul  contrition  for  th«  ninfnl ;  counolatioo 
fur  the  afflicted,  and  mild  reproof  for  the  light  of 
heart;  noothing  encouragement  for  the  jwmecuted  of 
men,  and  utter  confusion  to  the  proutl  and  unjust. 
There  ithall  be  teara  that  will  drown  all  human  sor- 
row, and  thorns  that  shall  prick  to  compunction  the 
hardest  heart;  and  sighs  that  iw  tmlm  will  heal  the 
bruised  spiri^  and  blood  that  will  wu»h  deau  the 
deepest  stains  of  sin  I 

Come  then,  my  dear  brethren,  and  let  us  enter,  with 
willing  if  not  with  cheerful  heart,  upon  this  way  of 
life  to  us,  though  of  death  to  Jesus.  And,  as  I  trust 
you  will  make  the  thought  of  His  sufferings  para- 
mount in  your  minds,  in  the  days  that  shall  ensue, 
and  will  often  turn  your  affections  towards  one  or 
other  of  His  many  sorrows,  I  will  offer  myself  thm 
day,  with  becoming  diffldenct!,  to  be  your  guide,  by 
simply  suggesting  to  you  a  few  of  the  many  reflections 
that  may  occupy  your  thoughts  upon  the  different 
parts  of  your  dear  Redeemer's  Passion. 

First,  you  will-  follow  Him  into  the  Garden  of 
Olives,  where  you  will  see  Him  leavy  His  apostles  at 
Bome  distance,  taking  along  with  Him  His  three  more 
chosen  ones,  from  whom,  however.  He  further  retires. 
While  they,  oppressed  by  nature,  sleep,  He  enters  up- 
on the  most  mysterious  portion  of  His  Passion.  This 
the  Scripture  describes  by  words  which  imply,  as  we 
shall  see,  a  frightful  mental  suffering.  He  prays  tQ 
His  Father  to  remove  from  Him  the  cup  which  He  is 
about  to  drink;  He  falls  upon  the  ground  in  anguish, 
and  requires  an  angel  as  Hia  comforter.    Such.  19  the 


tt 


.^haiM 


IHtntTATIOIf   on  Till!  VAt»lOV, 


9t8 


apathy  for 
cutiAolatiua 
le  light  of 
i-jti'cutvd  of 
mil  unjimt. 
Iiutnnu  (lor* 
Linctiou  the 
11  hoal  thu 
I  oleau  tho 

I  enter,  with 
ihia  way  of 
(],  as  I  ti-uat 
Brings  para- 
shall  eiisuef 
ards  one  or 
myself  ihi» 
ir  guide,  by 
ly  reflections 
the  ditferent 

9  Garden  of 
}  apostles  at 
8  three  more 
irther  retires. 
le  enters  op- 
aasion.  This 
imply,  as  we 
Ho  prays  to 

which  lie  ia 
d  in  anguish, 

Such,  i?  the 


brief  outline  of  thi*  stage  of  our  Haviour's  Passion ; 
and  you  will,  iwho|)B,  ask  yourselves,  wh«refore  was 
it  en«lur«d:  and  an  easy  answer  will  pr»w«nt  itself. 

Suppose,  then,  that  wicked  Judaa,  when  he  rushed 
out  of  the  supper  hall,  had  brought  in  the  satellit«»  of 
the  priests,  and  had  seized  Jesus  in  the  midst  of  His 
a])ostl«s,  there  would  hove  been  something  unbecom- 
ing tho  majesty  <f  His  sufterings  to  be  thus  surpriwd, 
as  though  unprepared,  amidst  the  cjilm  enjoyment  of 
society  with   those   He   loved.    The  whole   Passion 
would  have  appeared  to  us  a  deed  of  violence ;   and 
that  spontaneous  assumption  of  pain  and  death,  which 
is  its  leading  characteristic,  would  have  hardly  ap- 
peared.     It  was  right,  therefore,  that  a  separation 
from  the  rest  of  mankind  should  take  place,  that  Jesua 
should  calmly  and  deliberately  prepare  Himself  for  all 
that  was  to  follow,  and  give  Himself  up  to  His  suffer- 
ings,  as  chosen  by  Himself.     Hence,  when  His  ene- 
mies came  to  seize  Him,  He  is  pleased  first  to  throw 
them  thrice  upon  the  ground,  before  He  surrendered 
Himself  to  their  power.     He  showed  in  His  agony  and 
in  His  prayer,  that  He  foresaw  what  was  to  ensue, 
and  submitted  to  it  all. 

But,  moreover,  it  was  unbecoming  tbat  men  should 
strike  the  first  blow  upon  the  Victim  of  sin;  for, 
whatever  they  inflicted  wn^  but  in  consequence  of  a 
just  and  stem  decree.  It  was  the  Eternal  Father  who 
must  first  lift  His  hand  upon  this  His  Isaac,  and  by 
investing  Him  with  the  character  of  the  universal  ob- 
lation, give  Him  up  to  the  cruelty  of  man  for  the  con- 
summation  of  the  mysterious  sacrifice.  And  here,  in- 
deed, He  laid  His  hands  upon  His  head,  as  did  the 


r 


ifl»riliii 


i 


»«  l»N 


1"' 


226 


MIDITATIOIC   ON  THK  PAaSION. 


High  Priest  upon  that  of  the  emissary  goat,  laying 
upon  Him  the  iniquities  of  us  all,  and  holding  Him 
responsible  for  their  enormity.  During  the  rest  of 
His  Passion  our  thoughts  are  distracted  by  the  har- 
rowing spectacle  of  bodily  torments,  and  by  the  de- 
testation  inspired  by  the  conduct  of  His  enemies. 
Here  we  are  exclusively  occupied  with  the  considera- 
tion  of  inward  grief;  we  see  Jesus  alone  with  His 
own  personal  sorrows,  and  come  to  consider  those  as 
80  essential  a  part  of  His  sufferings,  so  deep,  so  over- 
whelming, as  that  whatever  he  afterwards  endured 
in  the  body  shall  seem  but  as  an  addition  and  ap- 
pendage to  them.  .        «  1 

For  observe  diligently  the  awful  expression  of  the 
sacred  text:  "And  being  in  an  agony,  He  prayed  the 
longer"  (Luke,  xxii.  43) ;  and  His  own  words :  "My 
soul  is  sorrowful  even  unto  death."    These  expressions 
suggest  to  us  the  only  comparison  that  wUl  illustrate 
the  anguish  of  His  spirit— the  laat  struggle  between 
life  and  death,  when  in  ordinai7  men  the  latter  con- 
quers.    They  represent  to  us  the  convulsions  of  ex- 
hausted Nature,  resisting  in  vain  the  wrestling  of  a 
superior  destroying  power,  that  gripes  it  closer  and 
closer,  and  presses  out  by  degrees  its  vital  energy,  till 
it  sinks  crushed  and  hopeless  within  its  iron  embrace. 
They  give  us  an  idea  of  tl^e  heart  smothered  in  its  fit- 
ful throbs,  by  the  slow  ebbing  of  its  thickening 
streams;  of  the  chest  rising  against  a  leaden  weight 
that  oppresses  it;    of  the  limbs  stiffening  and  drag- 
ging  one  down  like  icy  lumps;   of  the  brain  swim- 
mi.  £,  and  reeling  in  sickening  confusioa.    But  then, 
when  we  stand  by  such  a  spectacle  on  the  bed  of  a 


-ftHia 


»m  ih* 


MEDITATION  ON  TUB  PASSION. 


227 


goat,  laying 
olding  Him 
the  rest  of 
by  the  har- 
by  the  de- 
lis enemies, 
le  cousidera- 
Qe  with  His 
del'  those  as 
jep,  so  over- 
irds  endured 
tion  and  ap- 

assion  of  the 
e  prayed  the 
words:  "My 
e  expressions 
n'tII  illustrate 
jgle  between 
le  latter  con- 
ilsions  of  ex- 
restling  of  a 
it  closer  and 
il  energy,  till 
ron  embrace, 
sred  in  its  fit- 
ts  thickening 
eaden  weight 
ng  and  drag- 
>  brain  swim- 
j.    But  then, 
the  bed  of  a 


dying  friend,  awful  and  painful  as  it  is  to  our  feelings, 
we  have  the  consolation  to  know,  or  to  believe,  that 
the  feebleness  of  nature  which  causes  it  is  a  security 
against  its  severity,  that  the  sense  is  already  dulled, 
and  the  mind  brought  down  almost  to  the  verge  of 
unconsciousness.    But  here  is  one  in  the  very  prime 
of  youth,  in  the  vigor  health,  without  a  stroke  from 
man,  or  a  visitation  of  evil  fortune,  or  a  domestic  be- 
reavement, so  seized  upon  in  one  instant  by  inward 
sorrow,  as  to  be  cast  into  this  death  struggle,  through 
its  intensity.    Oh,  who  can  imagine  the  fearfulness  of 
the  conflict !    To  be  assailed  by  such  grief  as  is  car 
pable  of  causing  death,  and  to  have  to  grapple  with  it, 
and  resist  it  so  as  to  prevent  by  endurance  its  fatal 
effects ;  to  feel  death,  in  the  very  pride  and  fulness  of 
life,  attempt  usurpation,  by  strong  and  armed  hand, 
against  the  wakeful  and  resisting  powers  of  vitality  I 
And  to  wrestle  through  the  dark  hours  of  night,  as 
Jacob  did  with    the    angel,  unaided,   unsupported, 
alone !    Good  God,  what  a  conflict,  and  what  a  vic- 
tory 1    When  you  stand  by  one  reduced  to  his  last 
struggle,  you  see  with  compassion  how  the  cold  sweat 
settles  upon  his  brow ;  you  see  in  it  the  last  symptom 
of  the  intensity  of  his  pain ;  and,  if  he  were  your  bit- 
tei-est  enemy,  you  would  not  refuse  to  wipe  it  gently 
away.    Look,  then,  at  the  agony  of  your  Saviour,  and 
see  how,  in  it,  that  sweat  is  blood !  yea,  and  blood  so 
profusely  shed,  without  wound  or  stroke,  as  to  flow 
upon  the  gi'ouud ! 

There  are  plants  in  the  luxurious  East,  my  dearly 
beloved  brethren,  which  men  gash  and  cut,  that  from 
them  may  distil  the  precious  balsams  they  contain ; 


228 


MEDITATION  ON  THE  PA88ION. 


but  tbat  is  ever  the  most  sought  and  valued  which, 
issuing  forth  of  its  own  accord,  pure  and  unmixed, 
trickles  down  like  tears  upon  the  parent  tree.    And 
so  it  seems  to  me,  we  may  without  disparagement 
speak  of  the  precious  streams  of  our  dear  Redeemers 
blood.    When  forced  from  His  side,  in   abundant 
flow  it  came  mixed  with  another  mystenous  fluid; 
when  shed  by  the  cruel  inflictions  of  His  enemies,  by 
their  nails,  their  thorns,  and  scourges,  there  is  a  pain- 
fal  association  with  the  brutal    istruments  that  drew 
it,  as  though  in  some  way  their  defilement  could 
attaint  it.    But  here  we  have  the  first  yield  of  that 
saving  and  life-giving  heart,  gushing  forth  spontane- 
ously,  pure  and  untouched  by  the  unclean  hand  of 
man,  dropping  as  dew  upon  the  ground.    It  is  the 
first  juice  of  the  precious  vine ;  before  the  wine-press 
hath  bruised  its  grapes,  richer  and  sweeter  to  the 
loving  and  sympathizing  soul,  than  what  is  aftei- 
wards  pressed  out.    It  is  every  drop  of  it  ours ;  and 
alas,  how  painfully  so  I    For  here  no  lash,  no  impious 
palm,  no  pricking  thorn  hath  called  it  forth ;  but  our 
sins,  yes,  our  sins,  the  executioners  not  of  the  flesh, 
but'  of  the  heart  of  Jesus,  have  driven  it  all  out, 
thence  to  water  that  garden  of  sorrows  I   Oh,  is  it  not 
dear  to  us ;  is  it  not  gathered  up  by  our  affections, 
with  far  more  reverence  and  love  than  by  virgins  of 
old  was  the  blood  of  martyrs,  to  be  placed  forever  m 
the  very  sanctuary,  yea,  within  the  very  altar  of  our 

hearts  I  «    •      » 

But  we  shall  have  a  very  faint  idea  of  our  Saviours 
sufferings,  upon  this  occasion,  if  we  learn  it  not  from 
His  prayer.     All  that  our  imagination  could  feign 


■mv- 


MEDITATION   ON  THE  PASSION. 


229 


ted  whicb, 
unmixed, 
ree.    And 
aragement 
iedeemer's 
abundant 
iona  fluid; 
inemies,  by 
e  is  a  pain* 
>  that  drew 
nent  could 
eld  of  that 
li  spontane- 
an  hand  of 
It  is  the 
B  wine-press 
eter  to  the 
at  is  after- 
t  ours ;  and 
,  no  impious 
th ;  but  our 
af  the  flesh, 
L  it  all  out. 
Oh,  is  it  not 
ir  affections, 
by  virgins  of 
}d  forever  in 
altar  of  our 

our  Saviour's 
n  it  not  from 
L  could  feign 


would  not  give  us  an  estimate  equal  to  that  contained 
in  those  few  words :  "  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this 
chalice  pass  away  from  me."    For,  consider  how  low 
indeed  must  His  strength  have  been  reduced,  how  fear- 
fully must  the  repugnances  of  the  aflBiicted  man  have 
been  allowed  to  prevail,  against  the  earnest  love,  and 
longing  desires  that  engaged  Him  to  the  accomplish- 
ment  of  onr  salvation,  to  make  Him  even  for  a  moment 
flinch  before  the  sufferings  that  awaited  Him,  and  hesi- 
tate whether  or  no  He  should  draw  back  from  the 
painful  undertaking,  in  which  He  had  already  taken 
8c  many  steps !    Oh,  how  the  cause  of  us  poor  crea- 
tures trembled  for  a  moment  in  the  scale ;  while  on 
one  side,  weighed  that  reverence  in  which  He  was 
held,  so  as  to  make  all  His  petitions  effectual ;  and  on 
the  other.  His  love  for  man,  and  for  each  of  us  in  par- 
ticulai*  I    How  may  Heaven  be  supposed  for  a  moment 
to  have  stood  in  suspense,  to  see  which  should  pre- 
vail 1     But  no,  blessed  be  Thou,  my  loving  Jesus,  for 
that  little  clause  which  Thou  insertest  in  Thy  prayer: 
"  if  it  can  be  done."    Yes,  I  well  understand  its  mean- 
ing, pregnant  as  it  is  with  the  fate  of  my  salvation. 
"If  the  cup,"  it  seems  to  say,  "can  be  removed,  yet 
so  as  man  shall  be  saved,  if  it.  can  be  put  aside,  con- 
sistent with  my  determination  and  pledge,  to  offer  a 
full  and  suflScient  ransom  for  sinners ;  then,  and  only 
then,  let  this  nauseous  draught  be  taken  from  before 
me.    If  this  may  not  so  be,  then  welcome  its  bitter- 
ness, that  lost  man  may  be  saved."    Yes,  well  had 
He  taken  care  to  enter  a  caution  in  Heaven  against 
His    prayer    being    received,    when    wrung    from 
Him  in  the  anguish  and  agony  of  His  soul,  and  well 


'1^- 


11 


K* 


dT" 


280 


MEDITATION   ON  Tlili  PA86ION. 


did  He  clog  it  with  such  a  condition,  as  would  pre- 
vent  its  being  received,  to  the  interruption  of  our  re- 
demption. 

But  do  you  wonder,  my  brethren,  that  He  should 
either  have  recoiled  from  drinking  this  cup,  or  that 
He  should  have  afterwards  cheerfully  drunk  it  to  the 
dregs  \    What  was  there  in  that  cup  ?    Our  sins  aac' 
the  punishment  due  to  them.    And  what  %    s  to  be 
gained  by  His  drinking  it?    Our  salvation.    And  is 
not  the  mystery  solved  \    Do  you  wonder  either  that 
the  Laml)  of  God,  pure  and  undefiled,  should  have 
shuddered  at  the  very  thought  of  investing  Himself 
with  your  transgressions,  which  even  to  your  own 
minds  are  now  so  hateful ;  or  can  you  wonder  that 
your  dear  Saviour  should  have  Irved  you  so  much,  aa 
to  master  this  repugnance,  and  8\,  allow  that  poisonous 
potion,  so  that  His  death  might  be  thy  life  \ 

Oh  1  then,  whenever  you  offend  God  by  sin,  think 
that  your  offence  was  an  additional  drop  of  bitterness 
in  that  draught,  another  pang  in  the  heart  of  Jesus, 
which  you  might  easily  have  spared  Him.  When  you 
have  overcome  temptation,  rejoice  to  think  that,  here, 
at  least,  you  have  refrained  from  swelling  the  already 
too  full  measure  of  soitow  which  He  accepted  for  your 

sake. 

But  when  you  have  meditated,  with  an  affectionate 
heart,  upon  the  first  stage  of  your  Savioui-'s  sufferings, 
you  will  turn  to  Him  with  various  feelings,  according 
to  the  reflections  you  have  made.  Sometimes,  seeing 
Him  abandoned  by  His  disciples,  you  will  address 
Him  as  if  you  were  present,  and  had  it  in  your  power 
to  attend  Him,  and  comfort  Him.    "  Drink,"  you  will 


■i>lmj|iii|H»N*^WWI 


would  pre« 
I  of  our  re- 
He  should 
;up,  or  that 
ak  it  to  the 
ir  Hins  And 
,  -w  ^8  to  be 
n.    And  is 
either  that 
hould  have 
Dg  Himself 
I  your  own 
ironder  that 
so  much,  as 
at  poisonous 

ty  sin,  think 
>f  bitterness 
rt  of  Jesus, 

When  you 
k  that,  here, 

the  already 
(ted  for  your 

alSectionate 
''s  sufferings, 
^,  according 
times,  seeing 
will  address 
I  your  power 
ttk,"  you  will 


lIEDrrATIOlf  OM  THE  PASSION. 


281 


say  to  Him,  "  my  good  and  loving  Saviour,  drink,  I 
entreat  Thee,  this  bitter  cup,  that  so  I  may  be  saved. 
It  is  true  I  have  helped  to  mingle  in  it  the  gall  of 
dragons,  by  the  bitterness  of  my  ingratitude  to  Thee ; 
but  still  I  know  Thou  lovest  me  to  that  excess,  that 
Thou  wilt  endure  it  all,  rather  than  that  I  should  be 
lost  as  I  deserve.  But  oh !  let  me  add  to  it  one  more 
ingredient,  which  will  make  it  less  hateful  to  Thee— 
the  teare  of  a  sincere  repentance.  Be  comforted  some 
little  with  the  thought,  that  of  those  who  helped  to 
prepare  for  Thee  this  loathsome  potion,  one  at  least 
shall  not  be  ungrateful,  for  the  boundless  love  which 
prompted  Thee  to  drink  it." 

Or,  perhaps,  prompted  by  a  feeling  of  more  gene- 
rous ardor,  you  will  desire  to  share  in  your  Redeemer's 
sufferings.  You  will  imagine  Him  asking  you,  as  He 
did  the  sons  of  Zebedee,  if  you  are  willing  to  drink 
of  the  cup  whereof  He  should  drink  ?  And  you  will 
say  1  >  yourself:  "Oh,  who  could  resist  such  a  ques- 
tion,  or  hesitate  to  answer,  yes  ?  Who  would  decline 
to  drink  from  the  same  chalice,  however  bitter  its 
draught,  which  His  blessed  lips  had  consecrated  and 
sweetened?  Welcome,  then,  my  deai*  Saviour,  my 
portion  in  Thy  cup,  as  in  Thy  cross.  I  will  drink  of 
it  resignedly  in  all  trials,  and  afflictions,  studying  to 
bear  them  in  the  spirit  of  Olivet.  I  will  drink  of  it 
penitently,  in  sorrow  and  contrition,  weeping  often 
here  in  Thy  company,  and  grieving  that  I  should  have 
so  cruelly  agonized  Thy  tender  heart.  I  will  drink 
of  it  lovingly  on  Thy  altar,  when  in  holy  communion 
I  pai*take  of  thy  precious  body  and  blood.  And,  in 
the  end,  grant,  my  dear  Jesus,  that  I  may  blissfully 


'  i 


}t3  KIDITATION  OK  Ta«  PABSIOK. 

drink  H  new  «-ith  T--  in  the  kinsaom  of  Thy  Father 
there  face  to  f«=e  t„  >        .Thee,  for  Tby  eor..ow,  and 

'""irr^nr  ble»ed  Lord  la,  been  «.i»=d  by  Hi.  e„. 
mie^  nU  receiving  the  traitor'.  ki»,  and  hae  been 
kdTto^the  city,  the  «enc  of  the  bitter  tragedy  eu^ 
Zi  one  another  so  closely,  and  present  sucli  a  vanety 
of  feeling  subjects  for  meditation,  that  it  » .mposs.ble 
for  us  at  present  even  to  touch  upon  a  sm^l  port  on 
of  then,.    First,  then,  we  have  Him  presented  to  the 
high  priests,  and  their  confederates,  who  prepare  the 
preliminaries  fbr  Hi.  trial  ne:tt  day.    It  is  an  .nstru^ 
?"e  and  consoling  occupation  to  follow  these  w,ly  and 
unprincipled  enemies  in  their  courae  of  cunning  .njus- 
Se-  for  they  seek  to  save  their  characters,  whde 
Condemn  the  Lord  of  glory.   Hence  they  suborn  a 
number  of  witnesses,  whose  testimony  Jesus  confounds, 

by  simply  """"^"-K  «"•    N°*'°«  Tv.  \r" 
llJfillj  triumphant  for  His  character  than  the  re- 

suit  of  this  most  pai  aal  investigation.  ,  ,,    „  . 

But  there  is  one  incident  in  this  stage  of  the  Fu- 
sion that  particularly  rivets  our  attention-the  denial 
of  Peter.    Jesus,  from  the  beginning,  had  been  aban- 
doned  by  His  apostles,  after  the  fl™t  rash  effort  made 
WPe J  to  rescue  Him.    He  stood  without  a  friend 
Zidstthe  ruffianly  servants  and  g»-"  »' *«  °J''f 
priests,  who  had  let  loose  their  f™.'!*?  «?»"«».  »i 
were  loading  Him  with  every  indigmty.    At  length, 
tLlever  boldest  and  most  zealous  of  His  friends  draw. 
uighTnd  ventures  into  the  crowd.    Sure^  he  »  come 
^g^ve  his  dear  Master  some  comfort^and  assure  Him 
ThaTaU  His  chosen  ones  «.m«n  f«thful  to  H.m,  and 


MEDITATION   ON    niK   PASSION. 


283 


'hy  Father, 
orvovra  aud 

by  His  ene- 
1  has  been 
ragedy  suc- 
5h  a  variety 
I  impossible 
aall  portion 
snted  to  the 
prepare  the 
J  an  instruc- 
Bse  wily  and 
inning  injus- 
icters,  while 
hey  suborn  a 
a  confounds, 
an  be  more 
than  the  re- 

)  of  the  Pas- 
L — the  denial 
Ibeen  aban- 
i  effort  made 
hout  a  friend 
9  of  the  chief 
3on  Him,  and 
'.    At  length, 
friends  draws 
sly  he  is  come 
id  assure  Him 
,1  to  Him,  and 


sympnthize  in  His  sufferings.     He  must  bo  ready,  if 
necessary,  to  die  with  Him !     Alas!  he  is  come  on  a 
very  different  errand,  and  Jesus  who  has  foretold  it  to 
him,  well  knows  it;  he  is  come  only  to  disown  and 
foreswear  his  Lord,  and  peijure  his  soul  most  fright- 
fully  and  treacherously,  that  he  knows  not  the  man ! 
It  would  seem  as  if  this  special  trial  had  been  per- 
mitted, expressly  to  break  down  eveiy  comfort,  which 
the  suffering  humanity  of  Jesus  otherwise  might  have 
felt.    What  a  wreck  of  the  toils,  the  lessons,  the  warn- 
ings and  examples  of  three  years  1    In  vain  has  He 
been  laboring  to  teach  him  that  the  Son  of  man  must 
be  delivered  into  the  hands  of  sinners,  and  be  mocked, 
and  scourged,  and  so  put  to  death.    Peter,  after  them 
all,  does  not  know  the  man  !     And  who,  can  He  then 
hope,  ever  will  ?    Yes,  and  there  is  the  solid  founda- 
tion  of  His  Church,  the  rock  on  which  it  was  to  be 
built,  melted  away  like  wax,  before  that  fatal  fire  in 
the  priest's  hall !    There  is  all  the  work  of  years  in 
forming  His  apostle's  character,  dissolved  like  frost- 
work, at  the  breath  of  a  foolish  servant  giri  1   Oh,  -what 
a  painful  sight  to  Jesus  in  the  midst  of  His  other  tor- 
ments 1     How  more  grievous  a  stroke  than  the  blows 
He  was  receiving  on  His  cheek !    How  much  blacker 
an  insult  than  the  spitting  in  His  face  I 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  observe  His  conduct. 
Peter  was  no  longer  worthy  of  His  notice,  much  less 
of  His  affection.  He  had  treated  Him  most  disloy- 
ally,  and  most  ungratefully.  Jesus  might  have  justly 
abandoned  him  for  ever.  At  least  He  surely  had 
enough  to  think  of  for  Himself,  and  might  leave  him 
until  after  His  resurrection.    But  no ;  He  would  not 


'.^Ull|il,i^.l.."""" 


MtH 


234 


MEDITATION  ON   THK   PASSION. 


I 


f      I 


'H 


delay  one  moment  to  touch  his  heart ;  He  would  not 
die  unreconciled  to  him.     He  heeds  not  the  thick 
crowd  of  tormentors  around  Him,  but  turns  to  Peter. 
Oh,  what  a  glance  must  that  have  been  !  a  look,  never 
to  be  effaced,  so  long  as  he  lived,  from  the  heart  and 
memory  of  that  apostle.    His  features  are  scarcely 
discernible,  through  the  disfiguring  effects  of  the  out- 
rageous treatment  He  has  received ;  but  His  eye,  un- 
clouded in  its  mild  majesty,  darts  a  beam,  which  not 
only  passes  far  beyond  His  insulters,  through  the 
gloom  of  night,  and  reaches  the  outer  hall,  but  finds 
its  way  into  the  very  recesses  of  the  apostle's  heart, 
breaks  the  spell  of  forgetfulness  that  binds  him,  soft- 
ens once  more  those  finer  feelings,  which  fear  had  be- 
numbed and  frozen,  and  brings  them  out  in  a  flood  of 
tears.    And  who  of  us  will  not  feel  that  look  as  bent 
no  less  upon  us  ?    We  have  again  and  again  disowned 
and  abjured  our  Saviour;    perhaps  before  men  by 
cowardly  timidity  in  His  service ;  often  cei-tainly  be- 
fore  the  face  of  His  angels,  by  the  apostacy  of  sin. 
And  often  have  outward  warnings  been  lost  upon  us ; 
as  the  crowing  of  the  cock  was  upon  Peter.    But  one 
look  of  Jesus,  in  His  sufferings,  must  surely  be  irre- 
sistible to  our  hearts ;  an  expostulation  from  Him  so 
mildly  spoken,  so  lovingly  urged,  so  winajngly  soft- 
ened by  His  proffer  of  pardon,  from  Him  whom  not 
other  men,  but  we  whom  He  so  treats,  are  cruelly  ill- 
using,  cannot  be  rejected  by  the  hardest  heart,  by  the 
most  unfeeling  transgressor. 

I  pass  over,  my  brethren,  the  brutal  inflictions  of 
that  night  of  sorrows,  in  which^  as  in  every  other  part 
of  His  Passion,  the  meekness  and  patience  of  the  Son 


mm 


Wfc.lfc 


MEDI'I'ATIUN   ON   THE   FA8HI0N. 


285 


)  would  not 
;  the  thick 
D8  to  Petor. 

look,  never 
le  heart  and 
ire  scarcely 

of  the  out- 
Hia  eye,  un- 
1,  which  not 
through  the 
kll,  but  finds 
jstle's  heart, 
Is  him,  soft- 
fear  had  be- 
in  a  flood  of 
ook  as  bent 
iin  disowned 
ore  men  by 
cei*tainly  be- 
atacy  of  sin. 
98t  upon  us ; 
)r.    But  one 
irely  be  irre- 
from  Him  so 
injjngly  soft- 
n  whom  not 
•e  cruelly  ill- 
[leart,  by  the 

inflictions  of 
py  other  part 
e  of  the  Son 


of  God  shine  brightly,  in. proportion  to  the  black  and 
hateful  behavior  of  otliers  towards  Ilim.  I  pass  over 
the  first  accusations  at  Pilate's  tribunal,  the  outcries 
for  His  blood,  the  mockery  of  Herod,  the  silence  of 
Christ, — all  rich  themes  for  meditation ;  because  I 
will  rather  pause  on  tha  more  striking  events  of  that 
eventful  day. 

And  first,  Jesus  is  scourged.  Notice  how  Pilate  pro- 
poses this  insult :  "  I,  having  examined  Him,  find  no 
cause  in  this  man  ;  I  will  chastise  Him  therefore,  and 
let  Him  go."  (Luke,  xxiii.  14,  16.)  What  an  im- 
pious, blasphemous  idea  I  To  chaetise  or  correct  Him, 
who  is  the  eternal  wisdom  of  the  Father,  purity,  inno- 
cense,  holiness  and  all  perfection !  And  who  is  it  that 
undertakes  to  chastise  Him?  One  of  the  lewdest, 
most  tyrannical,  most  hateful  of  heathens.  He  pixH 
poses  to  chastise  the  spotless  Lamb  of  God,  to  correct 
His  faults,  and  send  Him  back  to  the  world  an 
amended  man  1  And  how  is  this  correction  to  be  ef- 
fected? By  the  scoucge!  By  the  punishment  of 
slaves,  of  the  vilest  of  mankind  1  See,  then,  how 
Pilate  proceeds,  without  remorse,  to  put  his  oflfer  in  ex- 
ecution, fancying  that  he  is  thereby  actually  doing  a 
favor  to  Jesus  I  Contemplate  well  the  scene  which 
ensues,  when  He  is  delivered  over,  for  this  purpose,  to 
the  rabid  soldiery. 

He  is  placed  in  the  hands  of  probably  the  most 
haixiened  class  of  men  on  earth ;  men  inured  to  car- 
nage, each  one  of  them  ready,  when  commanded,  to 
be  an  executioner,  an  office  reserved  in  later  time!)  for 
one  who  is  deemed  an  outcast ;  men  who  hated  the 
stranger  and  the  conquered,  and  who  ever  bor©  a  par- 


tse 


MXOITATIOir  ON  TUX  PAB6I05. 


ticulnr  antipathy  to  the  Jewish  nation.  Now  to  the 
absolute  i)ower  of  these  men  Jenun  is  aV)an(ionecl. 
They  nee  given  up  to  them,  not  a  hmdened,  rough 
criininol,  one  like  thomftelveB,  with  whom  they  would 
probably  have  Bympathized,  or  whom  thoy  would  have 
thought  it  but  an  overy-day  occupation  to  torture,  but 
QUO  whose  first  appearance  shows  liim  to  be  of  the 
^  noblest  descent  and  of  the  tenderest  frame ;  one  whoso 
modesty  and  bashfulness  can  but  poorly  stand  the  dis- 
graceful exposure  to  nakedness  and  ignominious  pun- 
ishment ;  one  whose  meek  and  calm  demeanor,  so  at 
vai'iance  with  their  brutality,  stimulates  tteir  cruel 
appetite;  still  more,  one  whose  alleged  crime  is  the 
desire  and  attempt  to  drive  thera  and  their  whole 
race  out  of  Palestine,  and  overthrow  the  empire 
which  gives  them  for  their  bread  the  plunder  of  the 
world. 

What  wonder  that  the  scourging  inflicted  by  those 
pitiless  wretches  should  have  been  ever  represented  as 
one  of  the  crudest  parts  of  our  blessed  Redeemer's 
Passion  1  What  wonder  that  He  Himself  should  have 
almost  always  alluded  to  it  when  He  spoke  of  His 
crucifixion  ?  For,  if  to  any  man  it  was  so  disgraceful 
an  infliction  that  St.  Paul  himself  pleaded  his  right  as 
a  Roman  citizen  in  bar  of  its  execution,  what  must  it 
have  been  in  this  afflicting  easel 

Well,  now,  see  the  innocent  Lamb  of  God,  sur- 
rounded by  this  ruffianly  mob,  the  subject  of  their 
coarse  jests  and  gross  ribaldry,  those  men  whom  St. 
Ignatius  Martyr  later  characterised  by  the  name  of 
leopards.  See  how  they  strip  Him,  with  rude  hands  I 
how  they  tightly  bind  His  wrists,  and  tie  Him  to  the 


AIKDITATION   ON   TIIK    PAWION. 


187 


fow  to  tll« 
[ihandonKl. 
ned,  rough 
they  would 
would  have 
torture,  but 
be  of  the 
one  whose 
ind  the  dis- 
itnious  pun- 
janor,  so  at 
tfieir  cruel 
rime  is  the 
heir  whole 
the  empire 
nder  of  the 

ed  by  those 
presented  aa 
Redeemer's 
should  have 
oke  of  His 
» disgraceful 
his  right  as 
hat  must  it 

tf  God,  Bur- 
eot  of  their 
1  whom  St. 
the  name  of 
rude  hands  I 
Him  to  the 


pillar.  Gracious  God !  is  it  possible  that  Thou  wilt 
alkw  llii*  virgitml  flt-Mli  to  be  tuuched  by  a  scourge! 
Is  it  ;)oSsiblo  that  Thou  wilt  permit  the  ignominious 
lash  to  tear  and  diHiiguru  that  most  comely  and  holy 
of  bodies,  formed  by  Thine  own  immediate  agency  in 
the  pure  womb  of  Mary,  the  most  precious  work  of 
Thy  hands  since  the  creation  of  the  world  I  Angels 
of  God!  can  you  withhold  your  indif»nation,  and  re- 
frain from  rushing  upon  this  mad  soldiery  and  over- 
throwing (as  ye  did  Heliodorus)  those  who  are  about 
to  treat  your  Master,  your  happ'ness  and  joy,  as  a  vile 
malefactor,  as  the  lowest  of  slaves,  and  will  instantly 
proceed  to  tear  and  bruise  His  adorable  body,  and 
sprinkle  His  blood  over  that  profane  floor ! 

But  no ;  there  seems  to  be  no  mercy,  no  pity  for 
Jesus,  either  on  earth  or  in  Heaven ;  He  is  abandoned 
to  the  anger  of  God  and  the  fury  of  man.  The  exe- 
cutioners  surround  Him  with  savage  delight  and 
shower  on  Him  their  cruel  blows,  till  He  is  covered 
with  blood,  and  gashed,  and  swollen,  over  all  His 
sacred  body  1 

See  now,  how  the  brutal  executionern  proceed  to  the 
task  of  inflicting  cruel  torment  upon  your  dear  Re- 
deemer. Having  bound  Him  to  the  pillar,  they  deal 
their  furious  blows  upon  His  sacred  shoulders,  back, 
chest,  and  arms.  First  His  tender  flesh  swells  and  in- 
flames, then  the  skin  is  gradually  torn,  and  the  blood 
oozes  through ;  gashes  begin  to  bo  formed,  and  wider 
streams  pour  down  in  profusion.  At  length  every 
part  is  covered  by  one  continuous  bruise ;  gash  has 
run  into  gash,  wide  rents  meet  in  every  direction,  and 
the  flesh  is  torn  in  flakes  from  the  bones.     One  wretch 


r 


fp 


.1 


H- 


9S8 


MEDITATION   OH  THK  PA8M0W. 


•Qoeetdi  anothnr  in  tho  cruol  work,  till  tboy  are  tired, 
And  thflir  patiijucu,  though  nut  that  of  tliuir  Victim,  in 
exhatinted. 

What  n  pitflOOB  spectacle  does  oar  JeflOJi  now  pr^ 
tent!  What  a  contraMt  with  what  He  wan  hat  the 
day  before,  when  M'atcHl  at  Ilin  tabln  of  love  with  Ilia 
Twelve  and  John  rcpoaing  ou  IUh  bosom  I  If  that  dic- 
ciple  aeoM  Him  now,  what  n  tender  Rorrow  must  he  not 
feel,  and  how  bitterly  muit  he  deplore  the  sad  change 
which  this  ruthless  infli<^tion  had  made  t  And  ought 
I  not  to  feel  as  much  as  John  for  my  dear  Baviour's 
Bufferings?  Was  He  not  as  much  my  Havioar  as  hisi 
This  Bon'owful  act  in  the  sacred  tragedy  now  ended, 
our  Lord  is  untied  from  the  column,  and  left,  as  l>e8t 
He  may,  to  shift  for  Himself.  There  is  no  friend  near 
to  help  Him :  His  disciples  are  all  out  of  the  way,  and 
the  unfeeling  soldiery  are  not  likely  to  render  Him 
any  assistance.  Every  limb  is  sore,  stiff,  and  benumbed 
with  pain,  so  as  to  be  almost  jwwer'ess ;  yet  He  must 
again  put  on  His  rough  woollen  clothes  upon  His  man- 
gled limbs,  to  grate  and  fret  them,  and  increase  their 
smart. 

Bat  now,  consider  the  change  which  has  taken 
place  in  His  situation  before  His  people.  He  is  now 
a  disgraced,  degraded  being.  The  base  lash  has  touched, 
nay,  ci-uelly  torn  Him.  He  stands  in  their  presence  as 
a  tried  and  condemned  criminal,  as  a  public  malefactor. 
They  will  not  believe  that  their  priests  could  have 
gone  to  sach  extremities,  as  deliver  a  descendant  ot 
David  to  the  heathen's  scourge,  without  good  and  solid 
reasons.  But.  be  He  as  innocent  as  possible,  He  can* 
not  again  hold  up  His  head  among  the  children  of  His 


MtOITATION   ON   T1IR    fUmiOIT. 


230 


r  are  tirwl, 
Victim,  in 

»  now  pr«« 
x»  hnt  the 
0  with  Hit 
If  that  die* 
iiiat  he  not 
nad  cliange 
\nd  ought 
:  Saviour'i 
[)ar  M  hiMf 
low  ended, 
eft,  as  best 
friend  near 
e  way,  and 
9Dder  HitB 
benumbed 
t  He  mnHt 
n  His  maO' 
sreaae  their 

has  taken 
He  is  now 
as  touched, 
presence  as 
malefactor, 
could  have 
icendant  ot 
d  and  solid 
)le,  He  can* 
Iren  of  His 


people.  One  who  han  been  scourged  can  never  hope 
to  heail  even  a  p.irty  among  the»».  He  mnst  give  My, 
all  pretensions  to  be  their  Meswias.  Who  will  now 
own  Him!  Oh  I  how  many,  upon  seeing  Him  thus 
treated,  denie<i  Him  like  Peter?  How  many  not  only 
Hwore  that  they  had  never  known  the  man,  but  in* 
wardly  regretted  that  they  had  ever  followed  or  be- 
lieved  in  Him  I  How  many  are  ashamed,  at  this  first 
step  in  the  scandal  of  the  crosn  ? 

And  after  you  have  afflicted  your  heart  with  this 
sorrowful  spectacle,  will  you  not  break  into  a  loving 
exjHMtulation  with  the  Saviour  of  your  soul,  and  say 
to  Him :  "  O  my  good  and  ever-gracious  Jesus,  this 
was  really  too  much  for  Thee  to  endure,  for  such  a 
sinful  wretch  as  I  have  been ;  it  was  too  much  good- 
ness, too  much  affection,  to  submit  to  such  degrading, 
such  savagti  treatment  for  my  sake.  It  is  a  spectacle 
too  distressing  for  even  ray  flinty  heart  to  contemplate ; 
oh,  would  it  had  been  spared  Thee !  But  Thy  love 
knows  not  the  phrase  too  much ;  it  is  insatiable,  it  will 
devour  every  ignominy  and  every  torment,  to  save 
and  to  win  us  to  itself.  Oh,  let  tue  then  never  know 
that  word,  in  gratitude  and  requiting  love.  And  yet 
I  address  Thee,  as  though  I  had  no  hand  in  this  bar. 
barous  infliction;  as  though  ray  sins  had  not  been 
Thy  true  persecutors  and  executioners,  that  laid  the 
lash  upon  Thy  sacred  body.  I^et  shame  and  sorrow, 
but  ever  loving  sorrow,  overwhelm  n.  ,  when  I  think 
upon  what  they  have  made  Thee  undergo  I" 

But  another  scene  of  extraordinary  barbarity  yet 
awaits  us.  The  soldiers  have  exhausted  the  power 
which  the  law  put  into  their  hands ;  but  their  fierce 


240 


MEDITATION   ON  THE  PASSION. 


desires  are  not  exhausted.    They  know  that  Jesns  is 
charged  with  declaring  Himself  King  of  the  Jews,  and 
they  proceed  to  make  this  just  claim  the  ground  of  * 
strange  mockery.    They  prepare  for  Him  a  new,  un- 
heard-of diadem,  woven  of  hard  sharp  thorns,  and 
place  it  upon  His  sacred  head.    Then  they  press  it 
down  on  every  side,  till  its  points  pierce  the  skin  and 
penetrate  His  flesh.    Now  behold  your  Saviour  still 
further  disfigured,  and  dishonored.    Before,  His  body 
had  been  torn,  but  even  the  scourge  had  respected 
His  venerable  head.    But  now  this  is  assailed  by  this 
invention  of  ingenious  cruelty,  which,  under  the  re- 
peated strokes  of  the  reed  given  Him  for  a  sceptre, 
and  taken  from  His  hand,  changes  its  position,  and  in- 
flicts at  every  blow  a  new  or  a  deeper  wound.    His 
hair  is  all  entangled  in  the  knotty  wreath,  and  clotted 
with  His  sacred  blood.     His  fair  temples  and  noble 
forehead  are  strained  and  pressed  down  by  it ;  while 
it  shoots  its  points  into  them,  and  opens  so  many 
fountains  of  life,  waters  of  salvation,  springing  warm 
from  His  affectionate  heart.    See  how  they  trickle 
down  first  slowly,  then  in  faster  and  thicker  streams, 
till  His  sacred  face  and  neck  are  streaked  with  blood, 
which  running  down  over  His  body,  mingles  with 
that  flowing  from  the  gashes  of  the  scourge.     "Go 
forth,  ye  daughters  of  Sion,  and  see  king  Solomon,  ia 
the  diadem  with  which  His  mother  crowned  Him,  in 
the  day  of  His  espousals,  and  in  the  day  of  the  joy  of 
His  heart."    (Cant.  iii.  11.)    Yes,  His  own  nation, 
whose  Son  He  was,  and  in  that  day  when  He  stretches 
forth  His  hand  for  a  pledge  of  love,  from  the  souls  of 
all  He  has  redeemed.    And  who  will- not  answer  His 


..».;.  ;:.i.,  :.'.i^v;.-...iv.;-..f.-.:  ■  i  ..i-^.-::^'...^.^  .,^^^-;.^:.-'~w^J:i-^-  '.■<^.f'4::..^^   iffV'ir'niNf'^i-iinjf-inii-Ti 


I 


"■n 


:ir 


MKDITATIOW  ON  THE  PASSIOIT. 


241 


hat  Jesns  is 
be  Jews,  and 
groand  of  a 
i  a  new,  un- 
thorna,  and 
they  press  it 
the  skin  and 
Saviour  still 
pe,  His  body 
id  respected 
ailed  by  this 
nder  the  re- 
>r  a  sceptre, 
ition,  and  in- 
nround.  His 
,  and  clotted 
)a  and  noble 
by  it ;  while 
ms  so  many 
inging  warm 
they  trickle 
cker  streams, 
1  with  blood, 
uingles  with 
ourge.  "  Go 
;  Solomon,  ia 
rned  Him,  in 
of  the  joy  of 
own  nation, 
He  stratches 
I  the  souls  of 
b  answer  His 


call  the  more  lovingly  for  seeing  Him  reduced  to  such 
a  state  ?  What  would  the  diadem  of  Solomon,  or  that 
■which  David  his  father  made  of  the  spoils  of  his  foes, 
have  added  of  grace  or  glory  to  the  brow  of  the  Son 
of  God?  What  dignity  or  majesty  would  gold  or 
precious  stones  have  bestowed  on  that  Divine  head  ? 
But  wreathe  it  with  thorns  for  my  sake,  and  enrich  it 
with  blood  poured  out  to  save  me,  and  I  recognize,  not 
the  M  orld's  diadem,  but  the  bridal  crown  of  that  Spouse 
of  blood,  who  would  gain  our  souls  at  the  price  of  His 
life. 

"I  will  extol  Thee,  O  God  my  King,  and  I  will 
bless  Thy  name  forever."  (Ps.  cxliv.  1.)  "  He  who, 
of  old,  had  conquered  at  the  games,  preferred  a  myrtle 
crown  to  one  of  gold ;  he  who  had  vanquished  ene- 
raies  in  battle,  a  laurel  wreath;  and  he  who  had 
saved  a  citizen,  one  of  oak.  And  I  will  ever  love  be- 
yond them  all  that  which  Thou  hast  chosen  for  Thy- 
self,  a  crown  of  thorns.  Thou  shalt  place  it  on  my 
heart,  and  it  shall  be  at  once  a  goad  to  my  love,  and 
a  prick  to  my  remorse ;  and  I  will  love  Thee  sorrow- 
ing, for  the  ignominy  a^d  pain  to  which  Thou  hast, 
stooped  on  my  account." 

After  you  shall  have  duly  taken  a  view  of  the  re- 
maining portion  of  this  stage  of  the  Passion,  of  the 
manner,  in  particular,  in  which  Barabbas  is  preferred 
to  Christ,  of  the  awful  cry  with  which  the  wretched 
Jews  call  down  His  blood  upon  their  heads,  and  the 
miserable  spectacle  of  Jesus  carrying  His  cross,  you 
will  hasten  on  to  Calvary,  to  witness  the  consumma- 
tion of  the  solemn  tragedy. 

Consider  now  the  cruel  torments  which  our  dear 

16 


iriftiitWlB-iiai 


T 


■— <p» 


•VI  IH"«ll«| 


243 


MEDITATIOlf  ON  THE  PASSION 


J88U3  must  have  endured  daring  His  three  hours  re- 
maining  on  the  cross.    Hi*  body  was  stretched  out 
upon  this  hard  knotty  trunk— for  certainly  they  wko 
prepared  it  studied  but  little  how  to  make  it  soft  or 
easy  to  His  limbs.    Every  sinew  and  muscle  of  Hw 
hody  must  have  been  in  a  state  of  unnatural  tension, 
both  from  the  situation  in  which  He  was  placed^  and 
from  the  eflfort  which  nature  would  make  to  diminish 
the  pressure  upon  the  wounds  of  the  nails.    We  find 
it  weary  enough  lying  for  a  few  houra  in  one  positiois. 
upon  a  soft  bed,  and  cannot  bear  being  long  without 
turning,  upon  a  hard  board ;  what,  then,  must  it  have 
been  to  hang  in  the  air  extended  upon  this  rough 
tree,  especially  in  the  state  of  our  blessed  Saviour^a 
body  ?    From  head  to  foot  He  is  one  wound ;  His 
head,  if  it  press  against  the  cross,  is  gored  by  the 
points  of  the  thorns,  which  are  thus  driven  deep  into 
it    Truly  now  are  verified,  in  their  truest  and  saddest 
sense.  His  plaintive  words:    "The  Son  of  man  hath 
not  where  to  rest  His  head."    His  shoulders  and  back, 
which  are  pressed  necessarily  against  it,  are  fiayed  and 
torn  with  the  inhuman  stripes  which  have  been  inflict- 
ed  upon  Him.    Against  these  open  wounds  does  this 
cruel  bed  press,  so  that  any  change  of  posture,  so  far 
from  relieving  Him,  only  increases  His  sufiferings  by 
grating  upon  and  rending  wider  the  blistera  and 
gashes  with  which  He  is  covered.    But  let  us  not  lose 
sight  of  those  four  terrible  but  most  precious  wounds 
whereby  He  is  fastened  on  the  cross.    Each  of  His 
hands,  each  of  His  feet,  is  transfixed  by  a  long  black 
nail,  driven  into  it  with  violence,  and  eveiy  mo- 
ment,  by  the  natural  gravitation  of  His  body,  tearing 


r 


ee  hours  re- 
bretched  out 
ly  they  who 
te  it  soft  or 
uscle  of  His 
;ural  tension, 
i  placeds  and 
I  to  diminish 
la.    We  find 

one  position 
long  without 

must  it  have 
n  this  rough 
sed  Saviour's 

wound;  His 
rored  by  the 
ven  deep  into 
st  and  saddest 

of  man  hath 
ders  and  back, 
are  flayed  and 
(re  been  inflict- 
mds  does  this 
posture,  so  far 
I  suflferinga  by 
!  blistera  and 

let  us  not  lose ' 
*ecious  wounds 
Each  of  His 
y  a  long  black 
ind  eveiy  mo- 
3  body,  tearing 


mmmm 


MEDITATION   OX  THE  PASSlOIf. 


J 


wider  and  wider  the  rent  it  has  made.  Oh!  what 
a  smarting,  torturing  pain,  what  an  unceasing  suflfering 
during  three  hours  of  crucifixion !  Who,  dear  Jesus, 
shal  be  able  to  recount  all  that  Thou  sufforedst  for  me 
in  that  short  space  I 

But,  beyond  these  sufferings,  immediately  inflicted 
by  the  act  of  crucifixion  itself,  there  were  others,  no 
less  severe,  which  resulted  from  it.    The  uneasy  and 
unnatural  position  which  it  produced  caused  a  dis- 
turbance  m  all  the  nobler  function  of  life.    The  lungs 
surcharged  with  blood,  panted  with  labor  and  anxiety! 
in  consequence  of  the  compression  of  the  chest:  the 
heart,  from  the  same  cause,  beat  heavily  and  painfully, 
clogged  in  its  motions  by  the  impeded  circulation :  the 
blood,  unable  to  return  from  the  head  by  reason  of  the 
veins  being  compressed,  must  have  caused  a  tingling, 
apoplectic  pain.    The  same  causes  would  produce  a 
disti-essmg  heat  and  irritation  all  over  the  surface  of 
the  face,  neck,  and  chest,  which  He  had  no  hand  to 
relieve,  and  which  consequently  must  have  been  tor- 
turing in  the  extreme.    To  these  sufferings  we  must 
add  exposure  to  heat  and  air,  with  a  body  already 
wounded  in  every  part  and  covered  with  sores  inflict, 
ed  by  the  torments  of  the  preceding  night  and  that 
veiy  morning ;  so  that  not  only  those  parts  of  the 
body  which  pressed  upon  the  cross,  but  every  other, 
must  have  been  painfully  sensitive,  and  subject  t<J 
giievons  sufferings. 

Truly,  my  Jesus  was  the  king  of  martyrs,  the  severest 
sufferer  the  wor 'd  ever  saw,  for  the  sake  of  others  I 

Add  to  all  these  torments  the  many  other  acces- 
soneg  to  the  tortures  of  crucifixion,  which  our  beloved 


f 


T 


•44  MKBITATIOM  OM  THE  PA88IOS. 

Saviour  enaored  for  you.    He,  the  meet  raodest  and 
™rrof  being.,  U  ex^-eed  unclothed  before  the  m»l- 
&e.    He  i,  .0  object,  not  of  the-r  ^"P"'-;'';^ 
of  their  absolute  derision.    He  sees  before  H^  « 
i,omen.ecro»d,all  animated,  or  ™tl'er  p««e«ed  by 
one  evil  epirit  of  hatred  and  scorn  of  Hm,  every 
rrd  that  re«=he.  Him  i.  a  woM  of  bitter  meult  and 
*:^tery.    Nearer  Him,  indeed,  is  a  amalkr  gr^up  o 
fi.ithft.1  and  eympathijing  followers,  but  .o  far  from  H« 
"ng  comfort  from  the™,  they  stand  .n  need  of  .t 
Tm  nfm,  and  cheerfully  He  give,  it    f 't";  -^  H'. 
other  companions,  apostles,  and  d.M.p  es,  the  many 
^ho  had  fkwed  Him  from  place  ^  place,  have  d* 
InDeared,  and  hidden  themselves  from  the  sight  of 
r„     A  1  that  He  possessed  on  earth,  H  s  few  c  othes, 
Zn  to  Hi,  seamless  garment,  are  unfeebngly  drnded 
or  diced  for,  between  the  .oldie™  who  have  executed 

Sim     He  ia  th™  ^o""  '"  "«'  "<"'*•  '"""'°',  T 
smallest  link  with  it,  save  His  love  for  man,  and  H.s 
earnest  desire  to  accomplish  h.e  salvation.    In  fine.  He 
X  a  racking  thirst;  His  parched  lips  oan  no  longe 
endure  the  dryness  which  afflicts  them,  and  call  out 
for  relief.    And  the  barbarians  who  surround  Him, 
present  Him  with  gall  and  vinegar  to  drmk.    Can 
oXage  go  beyond  ?his  J    Could  brutality  be  earned 
to  a  higher  excess  1    Now,  surely,  we  may  say  that  all 
U  accomplished,  and  that  the  anger  of  t^e  3«Bt  God 
■  has  no  more  dregs  left  in  the  ehalice  of  suffering  which 

He  homing  Jfor  His  Son,  as  the  world's  Kedeeme. 

Now  be  His  name  praised  for  ever,  nothing  more  i* 

mains  but  that  death  come  and  put  an  end  to  so  much 

suffering.  , 


L 


iMft""trr '"•••" '"'"'•'"''''  ""•^•■*'*'''  '  -■ 


modest  and 
»re  the  mul- 
passioD,  but 
)re  Him  an 
lossesaed,  by 
Him;  every 
5r  insult  and 
Her  group  of 
far  from  His 
in  need  of  it 
»eter  and  His 
38,  the  many 
Mje,  have  dis- 
the  sight  of 
s  few  clothes, 
ingly  divided, 
ave  executed 
,  without  one 
man,  and  His 
i.    In  fine.  He 
I  can  no  longer 
1,  and  call  out 
urround  Him, 
0  drink.    Can 
lity  be  carried 
lay  say  that  all 
'  the  just  God 
suffering  which 
•Id's  Redeemer. 
)thing  more  re- 
end  to  so  much 


MEDITATION  ON  THB  PAGSIOIT. 


245 


But  how  complete  it  was  determined,  by  the  inex- 
orable justice  of  God,  that  the  abandonment  of  His 
Son  should  be,  how  filled  to  the  brim  the  chalice  of 
His  bitter  sorrows,  when  even  His  dear  and  blessed 
mother,  instead  of  being  any  longer  to  Him  what  she 
had  ever  before  been,  a  source  of  comfort  and  happi- 
ness,  was  destined  to  aggravate  His  sufferings,  and 
render  His  last  hour  more  desolate  I    If  there  could 
be  one  tie  between  Him  and  earth  which  His  heart 
might  continue  to  cherish,  it  was  His  love  for  her  who 
had  borne  Him,  and  had  loved  Him  as  child  and  as 
man,  far  beyond  .any  other  created  being.    If  all  the 
world  had  abandoned  Him,  she  at  least  had  not;  if 
most  that  stood  near  Him  sympathized  but  little,  or 
even  rejoiced  in  His  sufferings,  she  partook  of  them 
with  a  mother's  sensibility,  and  alone  endured  more 
than  all  earth  else,  Himself  alone  excepted.    If  few 
would  feel  His  loss,  to  Her  it  would  be  irreparable. 
Her  then  He  sees  at  the  foot  of  His  cross,  overwhelmed 
with  anguish  and  unspeakable  woe.    He  knows  how 
she  is  revolving  in  her  mind,  whither  she  shall  go 
when  she  has  lost  Him ;  not  from  any  selfishness  or 
self-seeking,  but  from  the  utter  worthlessness  of  all 
earth,  when  He  should  withdraw  from  it.    What  an 
additional  pang  to  His  sacred  heart,  to  witness  her 
inconsolable  grief,  and  irremediable  distress  I    What 
an  accumulation  of  sorrow  to  His  overwhelmed  soul, 
to  have  no  power  to  comfort  her,  to  be  obliged  to  give 
her  up,  to  abandon  her,  to  have  not  a  good  or  cheering 
word  to  utter !    How  did  their  looks  and  their  hearts 
meet  at  that  hour !    How  were  all  the  affections  of 
both,  if  possible,  i-enewed,  and  how  did  they  melt  into 


Mwuif'ii'""'^*--- 


J 


246 


KEDITATION   ON  THE  PA88IOW. 


one  loving  thought,  in  the  fierce  furnace  of  their  com- 
mon Bufi'erings  1    How  did  Mary  remember  the  happy 
days  when  He  wna  an  infant  in  her  bosom,  and  when 
she  heard  his  Godlike  words,  sitting  at  their  cheerful 
but  homely  meal :  and  how  did  Jesus  remember  the 
cherishing  love  with  which  this  tenderest  of  mothers 
had  nursed  and  caressed  Him!    Here,  was,  indeed, 
depth  calling  upon   depth,  grief  superhuman  upon 
grief  such  as  none  had  felt  before.    Still  Jesus  cannot 
leave  this  earth  without  making  some  proasion  for 
the  future  welfare  of  His  loving  parent,  who  had  taken 
care  of  Him  for  thirty  years.    Gladly  would  He  take 
her  with  Him  into  His  glory,  and  bear  her  as  the 
first  present  of  earth  to  Heaven.    But  this  comfort  is 
denied  Him:  for  if  gi-anted.  He  would  have  died  with 
one  pain  less,  with  one  consolation  more,  ond  this  was 
incompatible  with  the  stern  decrees  of  justice.    No, 
He  must  have  the  pain  of  knowing,  as  He  expires, 
that  He  is  leaving  her,  whom  He  loves  beyond  all 
other  persons  and  things,  to  miseiy  and  poverty,  and 
to  the  charity,  however  secure,  of  strangei-s.    He  looks 
about  Him  for  some  protector  for  the  remainder  of  her 
days,  and  finds  the  only  apostle  faithful  to  Him  in  His 
hour  of  sorrow. 

Consider  the  blessed  words  which  Jesus  spoke ;  for 
thou  hast  a  deep  interest  therein.  First,  looking 
down,  with  His  sweetest  expression,  on  Mary,  He  said, 
referring  to  John:  " Woman,  behold  thy  son;"  then 
to  John:  "Son,  behold  thy  mother."  Here  was  a 
new  relationship  established,  wherein  it  was  intended 
that  we  should  all  have  a  part.  For,  as  the  Church 
of  God  has  always  believed,  in  John  we  were  all  re- 


1Lm|Mw*«- 


r 


mm 


MKDITATION   ON   THE   PASSION. 


847 


their  com- 
the  happy 

and  when 
111'  cheerful 
lember  the 
)f  mothers 
ns,  indeed, 
man  upon 
isns  cannot 
oxision  for 
>  had  taken 
id  He  take 
her  as  the 

comfort  is 
e  died  with 
ad  this  was 
istice.  No, 
He  expires, 
beyond  all 
overty,  and 
.  He  looks 
inder  of  her 
Him  in  His 

i  spoke ;  for 
rst,  looking 
iry,  He  said, 
■  son ;"  then 
Here  was  a 
as  intended 
the  Church 
were  all  re- 


presented ;  and  so  Mary  was  made  our  mother,  and 
wo  were  made  lier  children.     But  as  this  relationship 
may  form,  in  due  season,  matter  for  its  own  medita- 
tions, let  us  keep  our  attention  to  what  Jesus  here 
did.    How  did  He  feel  the  distressing  nature  of  the 
exchange  He  was  proposing,  in  offering  to  the  affec- 
tionato  and  already  crushed  heart  of  Mary,  John  fop 
Himself  I    But  if  to  her  He  was  thus  necessarily  hard, 
see,  on  the  other  hand,  how  lovingly  He  thought  of 
us  the  while,  and  how,  even  in  the  depth  of  His  afflic- 
tions. He  devised  new  blessings  for  us,  and  appointed 
new  aids  to  salvation.    He  bestowed  on  us  this  moth- 
er— this  tender,  loving  mother — this  compassionate 
and  merciful  mother — while  suffering  the  most  ex- 
cruciaiing  torments  for  our  sins  and  ingratitudes! 
His  death  was  approaching ;  He  had  given  us  Him- 
self; He  was  just  about  to  seal  the  donation  by  ex- 
piring, but  He  bethought  Him  of  another  bequest — 
nothing,  indeed,  in  comparison  with  Himself,  but  still 
better,  nobler,  more  valuable  than  any  thing  else.   He 
had  adopted  us  as  His  brethren  in  regard  of  His  eter- 
nal Father ;  He  had  made  us  co-heirs  with  Him  of 
the  kingdom  of  Heaven ;  yet,  He  wished  our  relation- 
ship to  be  even  closer  still,  and  us  to  be  His  brethren 
in  respect  to  His  dear  mother — one  family  with  Him, 
where  our  feelings  can  most  easily  be  engaged  in  favor 
of  our  kindred.    At  the  same  time,  who  can  refrain 
from  admiring  the  steadiness  and  wonderful  sti*ength 
of  the  heart  of  Jesus,  thus  discharging  His  duty 
OS  a  son,  in  the  midst  of  the  most  frightful  torments  of 
body,  when  exhausted  by  His  wounds,  and  when  op- 
pressed in  mind  by  an  unspeakable  weight  of  woe. 


SHM 


MfenM 


\ 


448  MKDITATION   ON   TUK   PA88I0If.  v 

How  amiable,  how  perfect  is  every  line  in  the  charac 
t«r  of  this  our  dear  Master  and  Saviour,  whether  xu 

life  or  in  death.  „         ,    ,,  m 

Let  us  then  exclaim:    "How  shall  we  ever  suffi- 
ciently thank  Thee,  dear  Jesus,  for  having  thus  niade 
Thine  own  sacrifice,  no  less  than  Thy  loving  mothers 
loss  our  gain  1     What  a  motive  for  gratitude  to  Thee 
and  to  her,  to  have  found  a  place  at  such  a  moment 
in  both  your  hearts— to  have  been  considered  worth 
mention  upon  Calvary,  amidst  the  sympathizmg  sor. 
rows  of  Son  and  mother!     And  here,  surely,  all  the 
gain  was  mine;  for  she  but  acquired  in  me  a  fioward 
and  undutiful,  and  often  rebellious  child,  whereas  I 
obtained  a   tender  and  '  ost  watchful  paren^  who 
through  life  has  been  my  patroness  and  kmdest  friend, 
ever  making  intercession  for  me  most  effectually  with 
Thee     But  let  me  never  forget  what  this  adoption 
cost  Thee.    For  I  see  that  to  establish  it,  Thou  wast 
pleased  to  bring  Mary  to  the  foot  of  Thy  cross  pierc- 
inff  her  soul  with  a  sharp  sword  of  giief,  which  went 
back  to  Thine  own,  wounding  deeply  Thy  filial  heart; 
that  for  three  houre  Thou  allowedst  Thy  bitter  pas- 
sion  to  be  aggravated  by  the  sight  of  her  inexpressi- 
ble  wretchedness;  t)iat  so  she  might  conceive  us  m 
sorrow  and  paiu,  and  have  a  stronger  maternal  inter- 
est  in  our  salvation.    Blessed  be  ye  both  for  so  much 
love  1    Blessed  above  all  Thou,  my  deai-  Jesiw,  for 
whom  no  suffering  seemed  too  much,  which  could  give 
U8  no  further  blessing  I " 

But  to  these  many  sufferings  must  be  added  a  deep- 
er  and  more  mysterious  woe:  the  desolation  of  His 
,oul  from  the  abandonment  of  His  eternal  Father. 


mim 


igJU-iiitl.i*. 


^•itfliiijpi  m'  fi*ii 


T 


the  cbarfto* 
tvhetber  ia 

ever  inffi* 
thus  made 
ig  mother's 
ide  to  1* heo 
a  moment 
Bred  worth 
thizing  Bor- 
•ely,  all  the 
(  a  froward 
,  whereas  I 
parent,  who 
idest  fiieud, 
ctually  with 
hU  adoptioa 
^  Thou  wast 
cross,  piero* 
which  went 
filial  heart; 
r  bitter  pas- 
r  inexpressi- 
Qceive  us  in 
iternal  inter- 
for  so  much 
ar  Jesus,  for 
oh  could  give 

fidded  a  deep- 
lation  of  His 
ernal  Father. 


MKDrrATIOIf   OW  TIIK   PASSIOIT. 


249 


r 


■■mm 


"My  God,  My  God,"  He  exclaims,  "  why  hast  Tlion 
aV>AndoQod  me?"  Had  the  world  alone  deserted  Him 
it  would  have  been  to  Him  uo  loss.  But  to  see  Him- 
self now  an  object  of  the  indignation  of  God,  in  whom 
His  love  and  being  were  centered,  oh,  this  was  the 
true  consummation  of  His  wretchedness !  This  is  the 
only  sun  which  to  His  eyes  is  darkened,  the  only 
brightness  that  is  dimmed.  All  joy  is  extinguished  in 
His  heart,  His  soul  is  drowned  in  unutterable  anguish, 
and,  uttering  a  loud  cry,  expressive  of  His  desolation, 
He  gives  up  the  ghost 

Ob,  sit  down  and  ponder  what  the  world  lost  at  that 
moment  and  what  it  gained. 

What  important  changes  did  that  instant  prodnce 
upon  this  globe !  The  richest  treasure  it  had  ever 
possessed  is  gone ;  an  eclipse  as  complete  in  the  moral 
splendor  of  earth  took  place  to  the  eye  of  Heaven,  as 
had  three  hours  before  in  its  visible  brightness.  What 
was  the  world  without  Him  but  a  wilderness  and  des- 
olation ?  The  fulness  of  His  grace,  the  perfection  of  His 
virtues,  the  majesiy  of  His  presence,  the  eflfulgence  of 
His  divinity,  all  were  fled ;  and  the  earth  which  to  the 
sight  of  angels  had  been  as  a  part  of  Heaven  during 
His  sojourn  in  it,  returned  to  its  unmitigated  aspect  of 
sin  and  of  sorrow.  But  to  man,  had  his  eye  been  opened 
by  faith,  a  brighter  vision  would  have  appeared.  The 
veil  was  rent  fram  top  to  bottom  not  only  in  the 
Temple  of  Jerusalem,  but  in  the  sanctuary  of  Heaven  ; 
and  only  waited  for  the  third  day  to  be  drawn  aside, 
and  the  glories  within  put  into  man's  possession.  The 
handwriting  against  him  was  at  that  ^nstant  effaced, 
the  shackles  had  fallen  from  his  feet,  hvt  birthright  was 


f 


T 


tftO 


MJKDITATIOir   ON  TUB  PAIWilOir. 


reclaimed ;  and  the  evil  npirita  that  had  urged  on  the 
farioQS  people  to  accomplish  the  death  of  Jeatin,  atood 
aghast  and  trembled,  and  gnawed  their  heart*  in  rage 
to  Bee  the  ruin  they  had  brought  upon  theraselveu. 
The  bolts  apriug  back  from  the  gates  of  the  prison  in 
which  the  saints  of  old  were  confined,  iU  doors  fly 
open,  a  bright  and  shining  splendor  breaks  into  it,  and 
the  soul  of  the  blessed  Jesus  descends  to  their  em- 
braces amidst  hosanuas  of  triumph. 

Such  is  the  Passion,  such  the  death  of  Jesus  1    And 
now  that  I  have  hastily  led  you  to  it,  I  feel  so  com- 
pletely how  unequal  I  have  been  to  my  undertaking, 
that  I  fear  lest  I  should  have  rather  weakened,  than 
directed  or  assisted,  the  emotions  which  your  own  af- 
fections would  have  awakened.    For  it  is  one  of  those 
topics  on  which  our  hearts  can  be  more  eloquent  than 
our  tongues,  and  whisper  those  things,  which  these 
may  not  have  the  courage,  even  if  they  have  the/ 
power,  to  utter.    We  began  these  our  instructions  in 
tlie  name  of  our  infant  Jesus,  we  close  them  this  day 
at  the  foot  of  His  cross.    There  should  they  ever  part, 
•who  desire  to  meet  again  in  Paradise.     Whatever  I 
may  have  labored,  whatever  I  may  have  striven,  use- 
less servant  as  I  am,  1  leave  in  confidence  on  that 
sacred  spot,  asking  no  reward  save  that  some  few 
drops  of  the  life-giving  streams  that  there  flow,  may 
fall  upon  it,  and  make  it  spring  up  in  your  souls,  unto 
your  eternal  profit.    Whoever  ye  are  that  have  not 
disdained  so  humble  a  ministry,  I  commend  you  to 
that  blessed  company  that  stands  around,  and  still 
more  to  Him  that  hangs  upon  the  tree  of  life;  to  those 
under  whose  roof  we  have  so  often  met,  whose  united 


T 


•?!*" 


■IB 


I 


i^ed  on  tlifl 
«8Ui,  fltood 
,rt8  in  rftge 
^hero«ielv«it. 
e  prwon  in 
I  doom  fly 
into  it,  and 
I  their  em- 

sua  1     And 
el  BO  com- 
idertaking, 
eened,  than 
3ur  own  af- 
me  of  those 
iquent  than 
'hich  these 
1  have  the/ 
truotions  in 
sm  this  day 
y  ever  part, 
Whatever  I 
striven,  nse- 
ice  on  that 
b  some  few 
B  flow,  may 
[•  souls,  unto 
it  have  not 
end  you  to 
d,  and  stili 
ife;  to  those 
'hose  united 


UKDITATION   ON   THK   PAMMIOX. 


251 


names  have  been  called  upon  this  holy  place,  to  ^m\\% 
and  to  Mai-y  •  Though  from  one  another  wo  now 
separate  in  the  bo<ly,  yet  may  wc,  through  the  spiiit, 
be  in  their  society  united.  There  ahull  we  And  peace 
and  joy,  assurance  and  hope :  and  the  scandal  of  the 
cross,  here  below  Ibved  by  us  in  our  silent  njoditution, 
shall  be  the  theme  of  our  loud  and  grateful  praises  in 
life  everlastiok^.    Amen. 

*  The  Church  of  Ott^  e  Maria,  la  Ronw,  when  thle  Mrmon  wm  preached. 


T 


SERMON  XII. 
es  htin  9(  Cbriit'l  'tiAt, 

tr.  LuK«,  xl.M. 

••  Ho  Ui»t  U  not  with  uw  !■  i«»liiiit  me,  and  h«  that  g»lh«roth  not  with  m«, 

•eattAntb." 

Albkit  in  ordiuary  times,  when  thiugs  are  r»'gular 
and  peaceful,  a  virtnous  citizen  will  seek  to  escape 
from  the  excitement  of  party-contention,  and  confine 
hiraaelf  to  the  unpretending  discharge  of  his  domestic 
and  particular  duties,  yet  are  there  times  of  public 
drnger  and  disquiet,  when  it  is  a  crime  to  prefer  our 
proper  ease  to  the  turmoil  of  a  more  stirring  life.    For 
when  factions  rise  high,  and  wicked  men  stalk  abroad, 
and  principles  of  turbulence  and  disorder  fill  the  heads 
of  the  ignorant,  or  proud  usurpations  disgrace  the 
hands  of  the  powerful,  or  vice  is  openly  countenenced, 
and  all  things  become  perplexed  and  confused,  then  if 
the  wise  and  virtuous,  the  lovers  of  men's  souls  and  of 
men's  happiness,  stand  aloof,  leaving  all  to  the  evil  to 
destroy  and  to  corrupt,  and  do  not  rather  corae  for- 
ward, and  openly  and  fearlessly  declare  themselves  for 
the  side  of  justice,  and  throw  into  its  scale  the  weight 
of  their  influence  and  good  counsels,  they  shall  prove 
themselves  to  be  so  cruelly  indiflFerent  to  their  coun- 
try's weal,  as  to  be  rightly  accounted  among  its  ene- 
mies.   And  hence  Plato,  in  hia  Republic,  considers 


r 


th  not  with  m9, 

are  regular 
L  to  escape 
and  cuufine 
lis  domestic 
8  of  public 
>  prefer  our 
3g  life.  For 
talk  abroad, 
ill  the  heads 
liagrace  the 
mntenenced, 
used,  then  if 
souls  and  of 
o  the  evil  to 
Br  corae  for- 
emselves  for 
e  the  weight 
f  shall  prove 
•  their  couu- 
long  its  ene* 
lie,  considers 


BKiNo  or  ciihimtVi  HUMk 


2G3 


Ibote  citiieni  on  wicked,  and  to  be  punished  with 
death,  >vh<>,  in  times  of  ])u!,lio  diinirder  and  confution, 
rcfunu  to  takt)  a  sidt),  and  declare  themsulves  of  one 
party. 

It  is  in  kome  such  sort  that  our  Divine  Redeemer 
declares,  in  the  words  of  my  text,  how  He  would  have 
us  act.  For  again  and  again  lie  speaks  of  Himself  im 
having  come  on  earth  oh  the  leailer  of  a  party  at  open 
and  deadly  war  with  a  hateful  faction,  that  hath  the 
advantage  in  numbers,  in  rank,  in  wealth,  and  in 
every  worldly  prominence.  He  came  down  to  bring 
not  peace  but  the  sword  (Matt.  x.  84) ;  He  came  not 
merely  to  enlighten  the  world,  but  to  set  it  on  fire. 
(Luke,  xii.  4U.)  He  declared  and  waged  war  ngainnt 
the  leagued  j)ower8  of  darkness  and  of  earth  ;  and  for 
this  purpose  He  gathered  together  His  little  band  of 
fol!owei-8,  to  whom  He  has  committed  its  conduct, 
^vhom  He  has  charged  to  continue  the  warfare  eveo 
unto  death.  But  then  He  will  have  no  dastards  in 
His  army;  He  will  have  no  faint-hearted,  cold,  indif- 
ferent followei-s,  who  will  slink  away  when  the  sound 
of  the  trumpet  is  heard.  Lik«^  Gideon,  neither  those 
that  prefer  their  homes  and  families  to  His  camp,  nor 
thoae  who  lay  them  down  at  full  length  by  the  tor- 
rent to  take  deep  draughts  of  eai-thly  refreshment,  will 
He  acknowledge  as  His  partisans,  or  fit  to  be  mustered 
in  His  ranks.  A  few  will  do  for  Him,  for  He  is  come 
forth  to  conquer;  but  those  few  must  be  His,  hand 
and  heart,  body  and  soul.  At  the  same  time,  woe  to 
those  who  have  shrunk  from  the  danger  when  it  came, 
or  have  been  ashamed  of  His  cause  when  it  seemed 
poor  and  depressed;  for  on  all  such  He  hath  pro- 


■»r 


254 


ON  BMNO  OF  OHBIST'8  BTDE. 


iiounced  sentence  in  the  words  of  my  text,  saying 
that  they  shall  be  accounted  not  merely  as  indifferent, 
hut  as  hostile  to  Him.  "  He  who  is  not  with  me  is 
against  me ;  and  he  that  gathereth  not  with  me,  scat- 
tereth." 

Two  things,  it  should  seem,  are  worthy  of  our  con- 
sideration :  first,  what  signs  may  we  have,  or  what 
test  will  Christ  use,  to  determine  whether  we  be  with 
Him  or  no ;  secondly,  what  will  be  the  consequence  of 
our  not  openly  declaring  on  His  side. 

Had  our  blessed  Saviour  contented  Himself  with 

the  first  portion  of  His  sentence,  we  might  have  found 

place  for  doubt  or  flattering  uncertainty,  regarding  its 

application.    We  might  have  said  each  one  to  himself: 

"  Oh  I  I  surely  am  with  Christ,  for  I  believe  in  His 

doctrine,  and  I  hope  in  His  mercies,  and  I  abstain 

from  whatever  his  law  forbids.    I  wish  well  to  His 

cause,  and  my  heart  is  ever  with  those  that  forward 

it."    But  the  comment  upon  the  first  phrase  in  the 

second  part  of  the  sentence  will  not  allow  us  to  reason 

thus.    "  He  that  gathereth  not  with  me,  scattereth." 

The  service  whereon  Jesus  is  engaged  is  one  of  active 

exertion,  and  we  must  join  Him  in  it.    We  are  not  to 

be  lookers  on,  idle  admirers  of  His  or  another's  efforts, 

but  i\'orkmen  as  well  as  they.    If  it  be  a  harvest 

which  He  ie  gathering  of  precious  grain,  that  is,  of 

souls  most  dear  to  Him,  you  might  as  well  be  helping 

the  storm  to  scatter  the  ears  away  from  his  hand  so 

that  they  perish,  as  be  a  mtre  spectator,  refusing  to 

shara  His  labor.    K  it  be  His  followers  that  He  is 

gathering  together  for  some  great  work  which  reqtdres 

the  co-operation  of  all,  you  are  in  secret  league  with 


text,  saying 
i  indifTerent, 
t  with  me  is 
ith  me,  scat- 

•  of  our  con- 
ve,  or  what 

•  we  be  with 
Qseqaence  of 

limself  with 
b  have  found 
regarding  its 
te  to  himself: 
lieve  in  His 
nd  I  abstain 
well  to  His 
that  forward 
»hrase  in  the 
T  US  to  reason 
I,  scattereth." 
one  of  active 
Ve  are  not  to 
ithor's  efforts, 
be  a  harvest 
in,  that  is,  of 
;ll  be  helping 
n  his  hand  so 
r,  refusing  to 
rs  that  He  ia 
rhich  requires 
t  league  with 


ON  DEiNo  OF  Christ's  side. 


255 


His  enemy  to  dispei-se  His  force,  if  you  refase  Him 
your  active  aid,  not  only  by  yourselves  coming,  but 
by  moreover  bringing  others,  to  the  standard.  It  is, 
theii,  an  active  stirring  interest  in  His  cause  that  He 
exacts  from  all  that  wish  to  be  accounted  of  His  side 
and  not  their  good  wishes  and  silent  adhesion. 

But  upon  what  gi-ounds  is  this  claimed,  or  how  shall 
we  ascertain  its  measure  ?  Why,  I  will  first  say  it  is 
demanded  on  the  lowest  possil  ;  grounds,  and  the 
standard  of  its  measure  that  I  will  propose  is  the 
simplest  and  the  nearest  that  I  can  find.  What  do 
men  in  general  expect  you  to  do,  when  you  profess 
with  earnestness  or  zeal  to  belong  to  any  school  or 
party  ?  Surely  Christ  may  ask  as  much,  and  with  as 
good  reason.  Let  us,  then,  examine  how  He  may  judge 
us  by  these  tests. 

First,  He  will  see  how  men  act  who  give  themselves 
up  to  the  opinions  of  a  particular  school.  They  read 
and  meditate,  day  and  night,  on  the  works  of  its  prin- 
cipal mastei-s ;  they  discuss  unceasingly  thdr  difficul- 
ties, till  they  fancy  they  are  all  explained;  they 
admire  their  doctrines  and  their  persons  with  such 
enthusiasm,  as  sometimes  to  declare  that  they  would 
rather  be  in  error  with  those  wise  men,  than  think 
aright  in  company  with  the  rest  of  mankind.  They 
seek  proselytes  to  their  sect  with  unwearying  ardor ; 
they  combat  strenuously  all  contradictions  to  its  pro- 
fessed principles ;  they  rise  in  zeal  and  often  in  auger 
to  rebut  every  imputation  upon  its  honor;  they  wear 
openly  badges  of  their  belonging  to  it;  they  boast  of 
its  maxims  being  the  rule  of  their  conduct,  and  in 
work  they  show  it.    Such  were  of  old  the  disciples  of 


MMM 


<(•',''  1  ■  '     '  •  ' 


25ft 


ON   BKI'iO  OF  cubist's  SIDE. 


Plato  and  Aristotle ;  sucli,  Christ  saw,  were  in  His  own 
times,  the  Phaiisees  and  Sadduceea;  such  havy  con- 
tinned  to  our  days  the   partisans   of  philosophical 
systems.    Can  He  reasonably  expect  less  from  «i8 
disciples?  can  He  in  very  decency  propose  a  lower 
test  for  Him  or  for  us  to  judge  by,  whether  we  belong 
to  His  side?    Try  youreelves,  therefore,  by  it    It  is 
simple  in  its  application.    It  requires  no  great  diving 
into  the  hidden  mysteries  of  your  hearts,  no  unravel- 
ling  of  its  complicated  feelings,  it  is  a  test  by  outward 
and  palpable  manifestations.    Do  you  then  show  but 
a  hundredth  part  of  a  similar  attachment  to  the  law 
and  doctrines  of  Christ,  as  these  scholars  have  done  to 
the  dark  conjectures  and  uncertain  theories  of  fallible 
men  ?    Do  you  love  them  so  as  to  exert  your  abilities 
in  propagating,  defending,  and  ilkstratiug  them  ?    Or 
do  you  content  youi-selves  with  silent  approval,  and 
inactive  concurrence  ?    And  are  ye  then,  the  partisans, 
the  avowed  followers  of  Christ  Jesus  ?    Are  ye  with 
Him,  even  as  men  are  with  one  another?    He  will 
look 'at  men's  conduct,  when  they  place  themselves  de- 
cidedly on  one  side,  in  times  of  political  excitement. 
How  they  will  sacrifice  their  own  opmions  on  particular 
points  to  the  views  and  aims  of  their  party  I    How 
they  will  inveigh  against  their  opponents,  and  study 
to  baffle  all  their  arts !    How  they  will  rejoice  in  every 
triumph  of  their  friends,^  and  in  eveiy  defeat  of  then- 
adversaries,  as  though  some  personal  advantage  had 
befallen  them  1    How  they  crowd  to  the  standard  of 
their  leaders,  when  their  active  exertions  are  demanded, 
and  open  their  coffers  when  their  wealth  is  needed  I 
And  shall  the  Son  of  God,  in  reason,  be  content  with 


jiiniiiii.^.iii   .  H^i.niiiiwujinii.iiiiiiiiiiiiLiii* 


ON   BEING    OF  CURISTH  BIDE. 


257 


in  His  own: 

liavy  con- 
nlosophical 
I  from  €Ii8 
se  a  lower 
r  we  belong 
y  it  It  is 
;reat  diving 
no  unravel- 
by  outward 
a  show  but 

to  the  law 
ave  done  to 
8  of  fallible 
our  abilities 
them  ?  Or 
)proval,  and 
he  partisans, 
\re  ye  with 
r1  He  will 
eraselves  de» 

excitement, 
on  particular 
arty  1  How 
8,  and  study 
oic©  in  every 
(feat  of  their 
[vantage  had 

standard  of 
re  demanded, 
li  is  needed! 
content  with 


less  ?  Shall  He  see  men  willing  to  be  cozened,  cajoled, 
wrought  up  into  enthusiasm,  or  even  lashed  into  fury, 
by  the  zeal  of  worldly  partisanship,  and  when  His 
cause  is  treated,  when  His  interests  are  to  be  defended, 
think  they  shall  be  considered  His  partisans,  because 
they  have  not  joined  the  opposite  ranks,  or  because, 
foi-sooth,  they  have  honored  His  cause  with  tacit  ap- 
probation ?  Is  lie  alone  to  be  put  o£F  with  cold  fel- 
lowship, and  wavering  fidelity,  and  call  those  friends 
who  proflTer  it,  while  they  themselves  shall  scout  at 
such  prof -ssions  in  the  paltry  concerns  of  earth  ? 

But,  moreover.  He  will  see  the  hearty  devotion  and 
fervent  worship  which  each  of  us  pays  to  the  idols  of 
his  own  heart,  and  wonder  how  only  on  His  behalf 
we  think  so  little  quite  enough.  Did  He  find  that  the 
follower  of  ambition,  or  the  gatherer  of  wealth,  or  the 
lover  of  praise,  strove  onward  in  the  pursuit  of  his 
particular  object  with  son^e  of  that  lukewarmness  and 
indiflference  wherewith  we  all  espouse  and  pretend  to 
love  His  cause ;  nay,  did  He  perceive  that  the  wretched 
slave  of  luxury,  that  the  bondsman  of  passion,  hugged 
his  chains  with  even  the  same  half  love  which  we. 
His  servants  and  luinistei's,  put  forth  in  His  behoof, 
then,  perhaps,  might  He  conclude  that  His  cause  was 
not  treated  at  least  worse  than  othei's,  however  de- 
grading the  comparison,  and  consider  the  coldness  of 
His  side  as  only  resulting  from  some  common  and 
univeraal  influence. 

But,  good  God !  how  can  He  fail  to  observe,  on  the 
contrary,  that  to  the  enemy's  partisans  this  reproach 
cannot  be  made :  for  see  how  they  sleep  not,  and  slum- 
ber not,  and  relax  not  in  their  efforts  for  the  mastery. 

17 


"7 


BMt 


rion 


258 


ON   BKINO   OF  CIIRIST'h   BIDE. 


See  how  tliey  recruit  their  forces  on  every  side,  and 
now  by  deceit,  and  now  by  violence,  strengthen  their 
host.    They  have  entered  upon  their  cause  with  heart 
and  soul,   and  it  is  no  other  than  to  set  up  this 
world  in  livalry  and  opposition  to  the  Lord  Jesus. 
First,  they  have  built  it  np  with  marvellous  contriv- 
ance, till  its  breadth  and  height  seem  greater  far  than 
those  of  His  Temple  here  below.    Every  passion  has 
contributed  some  alluring  ornament  to  decorate  it; 
every  science  has  labored,  with  its  peculiar  powers,  to » 
recommend  it;  its  courts  are  filled  with  sounds  of  joy, 
its  walls  are  made  to  echo  with  shouts  of  defiance ; 
its  precincts  are  crowded  with  the  young  and  the  old, 
the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  honored  and  the  ignoble. 
They  have  drunk  of  its  charred  pleasures  till  they  are 
intoxicated  unto  frenzy,  and  they  sally  forth  from  time 
to  time  to  assail  the  host  of  the  God  of  Israel,  and  to 
disperse  His  camp.    Their  march  is  steady  and  system- 
atic, their  assaults  skilfully  directed,  their  blows  are 
nervous  and  well  aimed,  their  efforts  unwearied  and 
persevering.    The  men  of  learning  who  have  espoused 
their  side  bring  the  weight  of  their  various  studies  to 
demolish  our   outworks;    the   sprightly  and   witty 
sharpen  the  arrows  of  their  satires  to  bring  down  their 
defenders;  the  dissipated  and  vicious  sap  the  founda- 
tions of  our  moral  truths,  and  the  open  scoffer  and 
blasphemer  attempts  to  storm  the  strongholds  of  faith. 
And  when  the  Lord  of  Hosts  looks  round  for  his  ad- 
herents, alas  1  where  are  they  ?    True  that  He  needeth 
not  our  aid,  that  He  knoweth  well  how  to  tread  the 
wine-press  alone,  as  when  He  said :    "  I  looked  about, 
and  there  were  none  to  help.   I  sought,  and  there  was 


Niimmiij.  ip."ffuj 


WVrfT" 


ON   BEING   CF  CHRISX'd   SIDE. 


2.19 


y  side,  and 
gthen  their 
>  with  heart 
set  up  this 
Lord  Jesus, 
ous  contriv- 
ter  far  thaa 
passioa  has 
decorate  it; 
p  powers,  to ' 
(unds  of  joy, 
of  defiance ; 
and  the  old, 
the  ignoble, 
till  they  are 
'th  from  time 
srael,  and  to 
■  and  system- 
ir  blows  are 
wearied  and 
ave  espoused 
us  studies  to 
'  and   witty 
ig  down  their 
p  the  founda- 
1  scojBfer  and 
lolds  of  faith, 
d  for  his  ad* 
t  He  needeth 
to  tread  the 
ooked  about, 
tnd  there  was 


none  to  give  aid ;  and  mine  own  arm  hath  saved  for 
me,  and  my  indignation  itself  hath  helped  me."  (Is. 
Ixiii.  5.)  True  it  is,  that,  with  but  a  whip  of  small 
cords,  the  Son  of  God  could  in  one  instant  drive  back 
all  that  attempt  to  bring  dishonor  upon  Him  and  His 
holy  place.  But  no  less  true  it  is  that  He  has  some 
right  to  expect  those  that  call  themselves  His  friends, 
as  zealous,  at  least,  in  His  cause  as  His  enemies  are 
against  it.  Surely  it  is  but  reasonable  that  He  should 
find  those  who  affect  to  love  Him  as  ready  to  protect 
His  interests  on  earth,  to  avenge  His  honor,  to  kindle 
His  love,  and  to  promote  His  glory,  as  evil  men,  that 
love  him  not,  are  to  impugn,  to  disparage,  and  to  of- 
fend Him. 

And  yet  is  it  so  ?  Will  the  activity  of  the  two  even 
admit  of  a  comparison  ?  Is  not  vice  rampant  and  am- 
bitions of  display,  and  is  not  virtue  skulking  and  ob- 
Bcure  ?  Is  not  incredulity  boastful,  and  is  not  sincere 
belief  retiring  and  silent  ?  Is  not  the  love  of  the 
world  a  living,  stirring  principle,  and  is  not  the  love 
of  God  buried  in  our  heaiia  as  in  a  sepulchre  ?  Do  I 
then  call  upon  you  to  do  your  works  openly  that  they 
may  be  seen  by  man?  God  forbid.  Fast  in  secret, 
that  yonr  Father,  who  seeth  in  secret,  may  reward 
you ;  pray  in  secret,  that  He  may  hear  you  in  secret ; 
give  your  alms  so  that  your  left  hand  know  not  what 
your  right  hand  doeth.  But  believe  in  the  face  of 
men,  and  profess  and  avow  that  belief;  honor  Eira 
openly  before  the  world ;  let  it  be  seen  that  you  are 
not  ashamed  of  the  Gospel.  Let  your  light  shine  be- 
fore  them,  that  they  may  be  brought  to  glorify  your 
Father  who  is  in  Heaven.      Nay,  I  will  say  more. 


tmmm 


—J 


160 


ON  BKiNO  OF  Christ's  sidhs. 


Leave  not  the  vindication  of  His  honor  and  the  exalt- 
ation of  His  name  to  His  priests,  as  though  they  were 
bound  by  office  to  relieve  you  of  all  responsibility. 
You  are  to  be  saved  aa  much  as  we,  and  this  you  will 
not  be  if  you  be  not  with  Christ,  if  you  gather  not 
with  Him.    It  ia  not  a  cross  hidden  beneath  your 
cloaks,  but  one  engraved  on  your  foreheads  that  will 
make  you  be  acknowledged  by  Jesus  before  His  angels 
m  one  of  His.    Whoever  has  taken  upon  himself  this 
ilia  badge,  hath  thereby  become  His  sworn  knight— 
His  champion,  ever  harnessed  to  do  battle  in  His 
quarrel,  against  any  that  shall  presume  to  oppose  or 
contradict  Him. 

Surely,  such  criterions  as  these  are  suflSciently  ob- 
vious in  their  application,  and  of  a  standard  alnaost 
disparaging  to  the  cause  whereto  they  are  applied. 
But,  thanks  be  to  God,  His  cause  has  not  been  insult- 
ed by  such  alone  being  proposed.    There  have  been 
those  who  have  shown  forth  in  their  lives  what  it  is 
to  be  with  Christ,  to  our  shame  as  to  their  glory.  The 
saints  in  every  age,  they  who  have  taken  up  their 
cross  and  followed  Him,  have  taught  us  in  their  con- 
duct the  estimate  they  made  of  this  obligation.    I 
will  not  alarm  you,  nor  attempt  to  confound  you,  by 
turning  your  minds  to  the  conflicts  and  torments  of 
martyrs,  or  to  the  glorious  labora  of  apostles,  or  to 
the  austerities  of  penitents  in  the  wilderness.    I  will 
not  remind  you  of  those  who  watched  entire  nights  in 
prayer,  or  who  fasted  for  years  ib  expiation  of  one 
sin,  or  who  clothed  themselveR  in  sackcloth  under 
royal  robes.    Yet  even  of  all  ^bose,  I  might  ask  you 
was  thei-e  one  who  thought  ko  was  doing  more  than 


1  the  exalt- 
1  they  were 
ponsibility. 
lis  you  will 
gather  not 
neath  your 
s  that  will 
?t  His  angels 
himself  this 
n  knight — 
ttle  in  His 
»  oppose  or 

Iciently  ob- 
lard  almost 
ire  applied, 
been  insult- 
I  have  been 
I  what  it  18 
r  glory.  The 
en  up  their 
n  their  con- 
^ligation.    I 
und  you,  by 
torments  of 
(ostles,  or  to 
ness.    I  will 
tire  nights  in 
ition  of  one 
tcloth  under 
ght  ask  you 
r  more  than 


ON  BKiNo  OF  Christ's  sidk. 


261 


waa  necessary  for  him  to  be  avowed  as  one  of  Christ's 
side,  as  exerting  himself  more  than  any  zealous  fol- 
lower and  lover  of  his  Saviour  holds  himself  obliged. 
But  rather  I  would  ask  you  to  look  at  the  devotion  of 
heart  wherewith  each  of  the  saints  gave  himself  nnre- 
strictedly  to  God,  and  to  His  service,  to  the  advance- 
ment  of  His  ^'lory,  and  the  diffusion  of  His  love.  See 
how  with  them  the  zeal  for  God's  truth  and  for  His 
honor  had  become  an  affection  of  their  souls ;  how 
some  of  them  have  so  loved  His  law  as  to  have  swoon- 
ed away  upon  hearing  mention  of  an  offence  against 
Him ;  how  others  have  wept  in  the  bitterness  of  their 
hearts  when  they  have  seen  His  commandments  vio- 
lated ;  how  any  one  of  them  would  have  given  his  life, 
and  thought  it  well  bestowed,  to  prevent  a  single  sin  1 
And  if  this  estimate  of  our  duty  appear  to  us  exor- 
bitant and  far  beyond  our  reach,  what  shall  we  say  if 
our  Saviour  should  choose,  in  rigor,  to  measure  it  by 
that  of  His  own  example  ?    For  if  He  call  upon  us  to 
be  with  Him,  it  was  that  He  was  first  with  us,  and  He 
gathered  us  up  first,  before  He  asked  us  to  gather  with 
Him.    Was  His  an  indolent  or  a  cold-hearted  inteiest 
in  us  ?    Did  He  hand  over  our  interests  to  others,  or 
leave  our  cause- to  be  pleaded  even  by  His  angels  ? 
Can  a  fowler  use  more  art  to  surprise  and  ensnare  the 
bird,  than  He  did  to  take  us  captive  to  His  sweet  law, 
watching  every  opportunity  to  seize  upon  our  affec' 
tions  ?    Can  the  enthusiast  pursue  the  object  of  his 
researches  with  half  the  devotedness,  earnestness,  and 
perseverance,  wherewith  He  pressed  on,  with  untiring 
eagerness,  to  the  possession  of  our  soula  ?    Can  a  m^ 
ther  with  greater  love  watch  over  a  sickly  child,  and 


%, 


fT-jmm 


ma 


tmmmmmttm*'^ 


169  ON   BKINO  Ok-   OHRMt's  MDB. 

care  for  ita  recovery,  than  He  hath  felt  over  ns  in  mii- 
ery  and  siu,  and  when  striving  to  save  us  from  perdi- 
tion  ?     Will  He  not,  then,  justly  upbraid  us  wl  *n  He 
contrasts  our  service  with  that  which  the  world  re- 
ceives  fi-om  ita  votaries,  viewed  in  comparison  with 
what  each  side  has  rectsived  from  ita  leader.    "  They," 
He  will  justly  say,  "  labored  so  much  and  so  earnestly 
to  serve  it,  and  yet  it  suffered  nothing  for  them,  it  felt 
nothing  for  them.    Not  one  of  the  objects  of  their  ap- 
plause and  flattery  would,  they  well  knew,  scorch  a 
hair  of  his  head  to  assist  them ;  not  one  of  their  false 
and  hollow  idols  would  have  put  his  finger  into  the 
flame  to  save  them  1   And  yet,  even  without  love,  they 
were  devoted  in  their  slavery  and  frantic  in  their  zeal. 
And  I,  who  have  stood  by  you  to  assist  you  at  my 
own  proper  cost,  who  have  spared  neither  pains  ncr 
labor  to  make  you  mine,  neither  sweat  nor  blood  to 
purchase  you,  neither  happiness  nor  life  to  save  you 
—shall  I  not  ask  in  return  some  proportion  of  fervor 
and  zeal,  of  earnestness  and  love  ?     Or  shall  it  be  said 
that  ye  are  more  easily  won  to  thraldom  and  stripes, 
by  contempt  and  ingratitude,  than  to  favor  and  honor 
by  kindness  and  affection  ? " 

Such,  my  brti-nren,  would  be  a  just  estimate  of 
what  our  blessed  Saviour  has  a  right  to  expect  from 
every  one  of  us,  that  we  may  be  able  to  say  that  we 
are  with  Him  in  some  measure,  as  He  may  say  He  has 
been  with  us.  But  if  we  neglect  His  admonition,  and 
be  content  to  stend  neuter  in  the  daily  conflicts  be- 
tween Him  and  His  adversaries,  what  must  ensue « 
He  Himself  has  told  us,  "He  that  is  not  with  me  is 
against  me." 


hin!iiiiiw!,lfin.  fjii  iiii;i!iji.iff.y*-'  i' J 'I' !'■■'! '!'!""  -i '' 


"^HvS^^^ 


er  ns  m  mis' 
from  perdi* 
US  wl  tn  He 
,e  world  re- 
arison  with 
r. 

80  earneatly 
them,  it.  felt 
s  of  their  ap- 
3W,  scorch  a 
)f  their  false 
ger  into  the 
ut  love,  they 
in  their  zeal. 

you  at  my 
3r  pains  ncr 
lor  blood  to 
to  save  you 
on  of  fervor 
lall  it  be  said 

and  stripes, 
or  and  honor 

;  estimate  of 
I  expect  from 
)  say  that  we 
iy  say  He  has 
monition,  and 
J  conflicts  be- 
must  ensue  \ 
}t  with  me  ia 


ON   BEINO  UK  CUUI8TH  6IDB. 


268 


I  might  here,  my  brethren,  place  before  yon  the 
frightful  consideration  of  what  God  hath  in  'store  in 
the  treasures  of  His  wratli,  for  those  that  hate  Him. 
I  might  trace  for  you  the  picture  of  His  judgments 
denounced  in  the  Old  Law  against  His  enemies  and 
people's ;  the  awful  imagery  of  plagues  and  scourges, 
defeats  and  captivity,  under  which  He  has  veiled  the 
vengeance  wherewith  He  will  pursue  His  rivals  in  do- 
minion.   I  might  take  you,  in  imagination,  to  the  con- 
templation of  that  final  consummate  woe,  wherein  such 
•8  have  been  against  God  in  life  must  be  under  Him 
for  eternity.     But  such  topics  as  these  would  be  ab- 
horrent from  my  present  discourse,  and  lead  us  too 
far  astray  from  its  more  practical  though  less  stiiking 
snbject.    Suffice  it,  then,  to  say,  that  we  shall  be  con- 
sidered  by  Christ  as  enlisted  on  the  opposite  side,  and 
as  contending  against  Him. 

When  in  ordinary  contests  men  elect  their  side, 
whatever  other  motive  they  may  have,  they  must  be 
greatly  influenced  by  the  hope  of  ultimate  victory. 
They  will  seldom  choose  to  support  a  cause  which 
they  already  know  to  be  desperate.  Even  the  most 
furious  faction  will  not  long  persevei-e  in  its  course, 
without  some  hope  that  in  the  end,  however  j'emote, 
success  will  crown  its  efforts.  But  in  the  two  sides 
engaged  in  the  spiritual  conflict,  no  such  ambiguity  of 
issue  can  exist.  Christ,  the  conqueror  over  death  and 
the  grave,  must  necessarily  triumph  over  all  His  ene- 
mies. Every  one  that  hath  risen  up  against  Him  will, 
in  the  end,  be  beaten  down,  overthrown,  and  irr3- 
coverably  destroyed.  See,  then,  I  will  not  say  the 
risk,  but  the  certain  fate,  that  you  incur,  if  you  once 


m* 


964 


ON   BflMO  OF  CnilST'u  BlDl. 


allow  yonrsflf  to  U  numbered  among  those  who  stuinl 
agaiMt  the  Son  of  God.  There  is  no  encai  •,  i\o  hope ; 
your  lo«8  is  certa'ii.  Vv  ill  yon,  then,  expcae  yours^^lf 
to  b«  placed  among  tho«o  foes  of  G<>d,  by  your  negh- 
genco  and  indifl'uiencel 

But  «uch  a  lot  would  be  not  only  feai-fal,  but  most 
pitifully  incurred.     For  even  here  on  eaith  >ou  would 
experience  the  fate  of  all  faint-hearted  persons,  who 
have  not  sufficient  resolution  to  adopt  a  decided  conrne. 
You  will  pot  be  trusted  by  the  zealous  fnendrt  of  God, 
afraid  that  your  timidity  would  betray   them,  and 
bring  scandal  and  reproach  upon  His  cai.se,  should  it, 
in  your  person,  be  exposed  to  trial  by  the  cuffs  or  op- 
position of  the  world.    Your  own  convictions  and  con. 
science  will  not  allow  you  ever  to  join  with  heart  the 
counsels  of  the  wicked ;  and  so  will  you  go  on,  luke- 
warm and  negligent,  halting  between  good  and  evil, 
virtue  and  vice,  God  and  lib  enemies,  unclaimed,  un- 
valued,  unloved  by  eit  ler. 

But,  speaking  humanly,  even  the  abjectest  slave  ^f 
his  pivssions  has  at  least  what  seems  to  him  some 
equivalent  for  the  heavenly  gifts  which  he  throws 
away.  He  has  a  tumultuous  joy  around  him,  and 
some  intoxication  within  him,  to  shut  out  the  whispers 
of  conscience;  am!  he  gives  way  to  the  impulse  of  pas- 
sion  with  a  willingness  that,  for  the  time,  assumes  the 
appearance  of  a  pleasure.  But  th."  Christian  who, 
too  weak  to  resist  the  current  of  example,  yet  too 
well  convinced  to  yield  without  remoree,  is  nee  saarily 
carri^^d  away  from  time  to  time  by  the  torrent  into 
transgression,  with  all  the  conscionsness  of  his  guilt, 
and  without  even  the  miserable  compensation  of  dead- 


.^tmmtmmmmmll 


mm 


mmmmimm 


OK  BKiNo  Of  onmwr't  ridb. 


se5 


0  whu  siiind 
%no  hope; 

i.3«  yours»*lf 
your  negli- 

al,  bnt  most 
b  you  would 
i>;rion8,  who 
cided  course. 
ewh  of  God, 
'  them,  and 
le,  should  it, 
B  cuflfe  or  op" 
ons  and  con- 
ith  heart,  the 
go  on,  luke- 
)od  and  evil, 
Qclaimed,  un* 

jtest  slave  of 
o  him  some 
h  he  throws 
nd  him,  an<' 
the  whispers 
ipulse  of  pas- 
',  assumes  the 
[iristian  who, 
nple,  yet  too 
is  nec'saarily 
»  torrent  into 
of  his  guilt, 
ation  of  dead* 


nesi  to  its  sting.  And  oven  if  he  escaped  this  more 
decided  incurrence  of  offence  and  punishment,  ho  will 
find  him(<«lf,  at  the  end  «>f  his  course,  h  nth(  ,  hot  nor 
cold,  neither  fit  for  Heaven,  nor,  in  his  own  est  mation, 
Worthy  of  hell,  but  to  God's  sense  most  loathsome,  and 
utforly  unworthy  to  bo  ranked  amoi*g  His  frienda. 
(Rev.  iii.  16.) 

But,  my  brethren,  I  have  said  that  when  tlio  con- 
flict is  aished  between  the  Son  of  God' and  His  ene- 
my, Hia  victory  is  certain ;  and  that  victory  shall  be 
graced  by  a  triumph  worthy  of  it«  cause.  It  will  he 
on  that  glorious  day  when,  suiTOuuded  by  His  angels, 
with  His  banner  displayed,  He  shall  come  to  judpe 
the  vvorld.  And  in  that  triumph  we  must  all  find 
some  place.  Now,  when  anciently  such  pageanta  wei*« 
performed,  they  who  attended  on  them  were  of  two, 
and  only  two,  jiassci.  For  first  there  came,  rejoicing 
in  their  i  ader's  glory,  and  feeling  part  therein,  they 
who  had  fought  with  him  his  well-earned  fieJ'ls,  and 
helped  to  procure  him  so  much  honAr ;  their  coante- 
nancM  were  cheeiful,  their  step  h  d,  ♦heir  helmets 
were  wieathed  with  laureif*,  and  th*  s'  )nted  forth 
their  cry  of  victory.  But  behind  the  car  would  come 
a  aorrowful  spectacle,  of  many  with  weeping  eyes,  and 
dow»  aat  looks,  and  hair  dishevelled,  and  torn  gar- 
mentd  of  ro^^nming.  Of  theie  there  were  some,  who 
boldly  with  arms  in  tlieir  han  Is,  had  fought  and  been 
overcome ;  but  there  were  not  a  few  who  had  handled 
no  weapon,  and  struck  no  blow,  ut  who,  without 
courage  to  abandon  he  cause  of  those  that  earrounded 
them,  had  neglected  to  join  that  of  the  conqueror,  and 
had  remained  at  home  in  neutral  repose,  till  swept 


SM 


ON  BF.iKo  or  cnniHT'i  kIDI. 


nwny,  fli  eneniiei,  into  perp^tnftl  captivity.     Now,  hnH 
one  of  thM«  ioiight  to  nvert  thin  fat«»,  and  to  escnpe 
heing  numbered  among  more  nctive  enemies,  who  li  id 
deserved  a  heroic  doom,  he  miint  nee<l«  have  plead'  d 
a  right  to  \v\»n  into  the  oth<»r  clas«,  to  Btand  among 
those  who  had  fought  with  the  victorious  host.  '  II 
would  not  have  sufficed  him  to  plead  that  ho  had  not 
measured   weapons  with  them  in  actual  battle;    he 
must  show  that  he  hud  combatted  in  their  ranks.    He 
would  have  justly  been  asked  to  state  in  what  con- 
flicts he  had  been  engaged,  under  what  special  banner 
he  had  fought,  at  whose  side  he  had  stood.     He  would 
have  been  interrogated  what  scare  or  wounds  he  had 
to  exhibit ;   such  as  none  but  the  enemy's  weapons 
could  have  inflicted.     Could  he  but  give  such  proofs, 
he  would  have  been  received  with  open  arras  into  the 
society  of  the  victor  and  his  followers ;  if  not,  he  must 
remain  among  those  who  have  deserved  no  mercy  at 
their  hands. 

And  even  so  it  will  be  at  the  triumph  of  Him  who 
"  vauquisheth  the  world."  Beneath  His  cross  His  bat- 
tles have  been  fought ;  and  none  have  fought  in  them, 
and  none  must  triumph  for  them,  save  they  who  have 
fearlessly  upheld  and  defended  it,  against  the  scora 
.  and  the  reproach  of  its  enemies.  By  Him  who  hung 
upon  it  hath  the  warfare  been  conducted :  and  none 
have  partaken  in  it,  and  none  must  be  crowned  for  it, 
who  hath  not  heard  from  His  lips  it^  watchword,  and 
obeyed  His  commands.  For  Him  who  died  on  it  have 
its  fierce  blows  been  struck,  and  its  wounds  received ; 
and  none  have  felt  th«mj,  and  none  can  claim  reward 
for  them,  who  hath  not  willingly  and  joyfully  endured 


ON    BKIItO   or  CIIRIHTfl  HIDE. 


267 


y.    Now,  had 
»nd  to  escape 

iniffl,  who  hnd 
|jav«  i>lru(l»»l 
Rtantl  nrnutig 
ions  host.  It 
int  ho  hnd  not 
«l  battlo ;  he 
eir  ranks.  He 
J  in  what  con* 
special  banner 
k1.  He  would 
rounds  he  had 
jmy'a  weapons 
ire  snch  proofs, 
I  arras  into  the 
if  not,  he  must 
d  no  mercy  at 

ih  of  Him  who 
s  cross  His  bat- 
fought  in  them, 
they  who  have 
linst  the  scora 
Him  who  hung 
3ted :  and  none 
crowned  for  it, 
watchword,  and 
died  on  it  have 
>ond8  received; 
n  claim  reward 
oyfuUy  endured 


pain  and  all  suffrtring  for  His  <l^ar  sake.     For  mark, 
bow  strongly  H«  was  phiwd,  unib-r  a  fsvirful  ♦♦mblem 
even  on    that  cross,  to  dt'claro  that  th<'r«  was  near 
it    no  standing-place   fur   the   cold   and   indiffi-reut; 
that  two  clase«'s  alone  might  sunouod  it — of  frifn<U 
or  of  foes.     I  will  not  ask  you  to  look  upon  the  crowd, 
ap,d  see  on  one   side   Mary  and  John,  and    oo   the 
other  the  brutal  soldiery  dicing  for  the  seamloss  vest  of 
Jesns ;  nor,  looking  further  off,  to  see  how  only  two  par- 
ties appear,  of  such  as  with  the  prints  and  eldei-s  mock 
and  insult  Him,  and  such  as  vvith  the  centuriou  and  och- 
en  beat  their  breasts  and  own  Him  for  the  Son  of  Qod ; 
nor,  again,  to  see  how  there  is  no  intermediate  order 
between  the  pious  women  who  openly  weep  after  Him, 
and  buy  spices  to  embalm  His  body,  or  Joseph  of  An- 
mathea,  who  boldly  goes  in  to  Pilate  to  beg  it,  and 
the  cruel  wretches  who  offer  Him  to  drink,  gall  and 
vinegar.    No;  I  will   rather  tell  you  to  look  upon 
those  three  crosses  on  the  summit  of  Calvary,  for  an 
exemplification  of  the  awful  doctrine  of  my  text.     It 
would  have  seemed  that  in  snch  an  hour,  in  such  a 
state,  there  could  have  been  but  one  feeling  in  the 
hearts  of  the  three  who  h mg  on  them ;  that  common 
calamity  would  have  made  all  friends,  or  that  if  self- 
ishness excluded  in  the  two  earthly  sufferers  all  interest 
in  their  companion's  fate,  it  would  at  most  have  pro- 
duced a  quiet  and  passive  indifference  regarding  it.  But 
no ;  even  there  no  such  a  state  was  allowed ;  and  God, 
in  His  inscrutable  judgments,  permitted  that  while 
the  one  should  declare  himself  the  partisan  of  Jesus, 
and  openly  worship  Him,  and  acknowledge  Him  in 
the  face  of  an  insulting  outrageous  mob,  the  other 


. 


2G8  ON   BEING   OF   CHRIST's   SIDE. 

should  forget  his  own  suflferings  to  join  in  their  scoITb, 

and  die  blaspheming  Him !  ^  ,    ,,      -n 

And  in  this  way,  methinks,  the  hour  of  death  will 
decide  forus  all,  and  range  us  necessarily  in  one  or 
other  of  these  two  unmodified  irreconcilable  classes. 
The  measure,  then,  of  what  we  deserve  will  be  that 
'which  we  have  done.    Whatever  we  have  done  or 
Buflfered  for  Christ's  sake,  will  then  seem  to  us  bbbo 
much  solid  gain.    To  have  done  nothing  against  Him 
will  be  a  burden  the  less  upon  our  conscience,  but  it 
will  b9  no  assurance  to  our  hopes.     And  then,  too,  all 
those  foolish  motives  for  reserve,  p11  that  false  pru- 
dence  and  bashfulness  which  made  us  hide  our  princi- 
ples from  the  world,  and  afraid  of  its  censures  if  we 
declared  that  we  loved  and  served  God,  will  appear 
BO  bare  and  disgraceful  that  we  shall  be  confounded 
at  the  thought  of  the  opportunities   of  good  they 
have  caused  us  to  let  slip.    We  shall  see  what  an 
honorable  thing  it  would  have  been  to  appear  before 
Jesus  with  some  marks  of  tribulation  upon  ns,  en- 
dured for  His  sake,  with  some  token  of  battle,  or 
'     some  scar  of  stripes  inflicted  by  His  enemies  and 
ours,  from  decided   hostility  waged  in  His   name. 
But  still  more  glorious  will  appear,  could  we  come 
into  His  presence  loaded  with  a  nobler  spoil,  a  booty 
of  eouls,  snatched  by  our  zeal  from  the  jaws  of  the 
lion,  and  from  the  mouth  of  the  pit,  to  have  the  tes- 
timony  of  many  whom  we  leave  on  earth,  that  but 
for  our  active  and  loving  exertions  they  might  have 
been  lost ;  to  have  the  crowns  of  some  already  m 
bliss  cast  by  them  upon  our  heads,  as  we  stand  before 
the  judgment-seat,  as  gained  throigh  our   zealous 


MiBiWBiaiJitit^     i'i.jij.iM 


IfH 


ia  their  8co£&, 

of  death  will 
irily  in  one  or 
jilable  classes. 
3  will  he  that 
have  done  or 
jm  to  us  as  so 
g  against  Him 
iscience,  but  it 
d  then,  too,  all 
that  false  pru- 
lide  ourprinci- 
censures  if  we 
od,  will  appear 
he  confounded 

of  good  they 
il  see  what  an 

appear  before 
n  upon  ns,  eu- 
m  of  battle,  or 
is  enemies  and 

in  His  name, 
could  we  come 
r  spoil,  a  booty 
the  jaws  of  the 
o  have  the  tes- 

earth,  that  but 

ley  might  have 

ome  already  in 

we  stand  before 

gh  our   zealois 


ON   BEING   OF   CIIRIST's   SIDE. 


269 


efforts  in  Chi-ist's  cause.  Yes,  they  who  shall  then 
gather  up  such  laurels  shall  be  truly  allowed  to  have 
gathered  with  Him,  and  shall  in  their  turn  be  gath- 
ered  as  good  wheat  into  *.he  granary  of  His  eternal 

Father.  , 

Encouraged  by  this  hope,  let  us  not  be  discouraged 
by  the  difficulties  we  may  have  to  encounter,  any  more 
than  is  the  husbandman  by  the  heat  and  toil  of  his 
harvest,  or  the  humbler  gleaner  by  the  slow  labor  of 
his  gatliering.    Each  looks  forward  to  the  long  enjoy- 
ment  of  what  a  few  days'  labor  will  procure  him. 
Let  us  enrol  ouraelves  in  the  army  of  God,  let  us  be 
of  the  number  of  His  p  jldiers  by  whom  He  opposes 
and  overcomes  the  world.    Let  our  voiceo  be  heard 
in  every  protest  against  its  errors  and  corruptions ; 
let  our  example  be  a  living    contradiction   of  nts 
baneful  maxims.      Let   us    fight  with    Chnst  here 
below,  that  we  may  reign  with  Him  hereafter  in 
Heaven. 


•^ 


It*  A 


SERMON   XIII. 

Matt.  iv.  1. 

"Than  Jmos  wm  led  by  the  Spirit  into  the  dewrt,  to  be  tempted  hj 

thedwrU." 

I  KNOW  not.  my  brethren,  how  the  word  of  God 
could  have  declared  more  strongly  the  perfect  holiness 
of  our  blessed  Saviour's  character,  than  by  the  pas- 
sage of  His  life  commemorated  in  this  day's  gospel 
It  records  the  eflForts  of  the  wily  tempter  to  draw  from 
Him  one  proof  of  frailty,  or  to  stain  at  least  the  purity 
of  His  mind,  by  the  passage  of  some  evil  thought. 
But  see  in  what  strange  and  powerful  ways  this  was 
attempted ;  see  what  a  gigantic  effort  of  wicked  might 
was  necessary  even  to  make  the  trial !     We  need  not 
be  led  forth  into  a  desert,  to  wrestle  alone  and  face  to 
face  with  our  adversary.    Whatever  we  see,  whatever 
we  touch  and  feel,  is  to  us  matter  of  danger;  the  very 
breath  of  the  world  is  fuel  to  our  lusts,  the  very  con- 
tact with  mankind  is  to  us  contagion :  and  had  the 
e'Jil  one  in  like  manner  been  allowed  to  choose  for  the 
holiest  anchorites  of  the  desert  a  place  for  temptation, 
he  would  have  transported  them  from  their  caverns 
and  theii*  date-trees  and  their  trickling  fountains,  on 
to  the  embroidered  couches  of  Damascus  (Os.  iii.  12) ; 
or,  as  St.  Jerome  tells  us,  he  was  in  imagination  cax'- 


ftlliJUiMillMillllllftll^^ 


to  be  tempted  by 

word  of  God 
erfect  holiness 
n  by  the  pas- 
day's  gospel. . 
p  to  draw  from 
east  the  purity 
evil  thought, 
ways  this  was 
•wicked  might 
We  need  not 
)ne  and  face  to 
J  see,  whatever 
nger;  the  very 
,  the  very  con- 
:  and  had  the 
•  choose  for  the 
for  temptation, 
I  their  caverns 
T  fountains,  on 
B  (Os.  iii.  12); 
aagination  cai*- 


ON    TEMPTATION. 


271 


ried  into  the  golden  chambers  and  festal  assemblies  of 
thn  Imperial  City.  But  He  was  not  like  unto  us,  on 
whom  the  world  had  exerted  in  vain  its  tainting  influ- 
ence ;  the  tempter  had  seen  with  jealousy  its  example 
powerless,  and  its  maxims  contemptible  when  tried  on 
Him,  and  could  not  flatter  himself  into  hope  of  success 
save  by  an  unwonted  trial  in  a  lonely  wilderness,  apart 
from  every  sympathy  and  every  support. 

Yet,  did  not  even  this  suffice.  We  require  not 
much  allurement  to  make  ns  trespass  in  the  gratifica- 
tion of  our  desires ;  the  ordinary  daily  claims  of  life 
are  our  incentives  to  excess ;  we  are  intemperate  in 
satisfying  nature's  wants,  we  are  dissipated  in  the  en- 
joyment of  necessary  recreation.  What  a  lofty  idea 
of  our  Lord's  superiority  over  the  rest  of  men  must 
the  observation  of  His  life  during  its  thirty  yeare 
have  suggested  to  the  evil  one,  to  make  him  wait  for 
the  hunger  produced  by  a  forty  days'  fast  before  ho 
would  venture  to  whisper  to  Him  a  thought  of  intem- 
perate desire,  or  suggest  the  use  of  His  own  lawful 
power  to  shorten  the  period  of  probation  Himself  had 
chosen ! 

Wo  want  no  unusual  splendors  to  tempt  our  ambi- 
tion ;  crowns  or  sceptres  need  not  be  hung  before  us 
to  stir  up  the  restless  strivings  of  our  inordinate 
wishes ;  the  gilded  toya  of  fashion,  which  a  touch  may 
break,  the  gaudy  trappings  of  any  nominal  dignity, 
which  are  but  the  livery  of  the  public  slave,  are  quite 
enough  to  make  us  break  our  peace  of  mind  and  our 
eternal  welfare  upon  Ambition's  wheel.  How  su- 
premely raised  above  every  range  of  this  towering 
and  rapacious  passion  must  His  soul  have  seemed  to 


.v-^ 


mm»*m 


I 


273 


ON    TEMPTATION. 


the  king  cf  pride  when  he  thought  it  necessrrv,  that 
he  mighi-  give  his  power  a  fair  trial,  to  raise  Him  on  a 
lofty  mountain  and  unroll  before  Him  the  mimic  rep- 
resentation of  all  the  earth's  dominions,  with  their 
mighty  cities,  and  their  huge  armied,  aud  their  costly 
merchandise,  and  their  sumptuous  buildings;  and, 
having  seduced  the  first  Adam,  in  all  the  power  of  in- 
nocence and  primeval  righteousness,  with  a  tempting 
fruit  and  its  unseen  prerogatives,  attempt  to  conquer 
the  second,  whom  as  yet  he  deemed  but  a  simple,  and 
consequently  a  fallen  and  frnil  man,  by  offering  Him 
the  visible  and  tangible  empire  of  the  world ! 

But,  in  one  short  word,  it  is  not  fo  solitary  conflict 
with  this  arch-foe,  that  the  Spirit  of  God  would  send 
us  forth,  as  Saul  sent  David  to  his  single  combat  with 
Goliah,  thereby  to  accomplish  the   certain   discom- 
fiture of  the  evil  host.    What,  then,  must  Hs  have 
been  who  had  chosen  as  the  champion  of  God,  the 
sure  avenger  of  man's  early  frailty,  the  crusher  of  the 
wily  serpent's  head,  and  destroyer  of  his  precious  might  I 
Yes,  it  is  in  this  glorious  light  that  we  should  view 
the  victory  achieved  by  our  Redeemer,  over   His 
tempter  in  the  desert,  as  the  accomplishment,  in  a 
great  part,  of  that  firat  prophecy,  as  the  fulfilment  of 
the  type  which  man's  first  parent  presented,  of  a 
second  and  better  Adam ;  in  a  word,  as  the  solution, 
in  contest,  and  in  victory,  of  the  great  momentous 
mystery  of  temptation, 

I  have  called  temptation  "  a  mystery,"  as  forming 
pai-t  of  what  the  apostle  bo  well  calls,  "the  mystery 
of  iniquity"  (2  Thess.  ii.  T),  and  being,  in  fact,  the 
principal  insti-vuroiit  whereby  it  "  worketh"  evil.    To 


'WPPBW''!'-/ ■■'.'■••■-■! 


ON   TOMPTATION. 


273 


essrrv,  that 
le  Him  on  a 

mimic  rep- 

with  their 
their  costly 
lings ;  and, 
power  of  in- 

a  tempting 
,  to  conquer 

simple,  and 
ffering  Him 
rid! 

itary  conflict 
I  would  send 
combat  with 
bain  discom- 
ist  Hs  have 

of  God,  the 
rusher  of  the 
ecious  might ! 
I  should  view 
r,  over  His 
shmeut,  in  a 

fulfilment  of 
3sented,  of  a 
the  solution, 
t  momentous 

',"  as  forming 
"the  mystery 
',  in  fact,  the 
ith"evil.    To 


it  is  to  be  traced,  a<3  to  a  root,  all  the  present  condition 
of  man,  his  strangely  compounded  nature,  aud  the 
providential  workings  of  God  in  his  behalf.    Upon  its 
isaue  hung,  for  one  fearful  moment  of  suspense  to  cre- 
ation, the  weal  and  woe  of  every  generation  of  our 
race;  their  immorality,  or  their  death ;  their  adoption, 
or  their  banishment ;  their  innocence,  or  their  sinful- 
ness ;  their  friendship,  or  their  enmity  with  God.  And, 
when  that  issue  was   painfully  decided  against  us, 
what  a  long  train  of  evil  consequences  did  the  one 
side  of  these  alternatives  produce,  through  the  physi- 
cal  derangement,  and  the  moral  degradation,  of  man  1 
Had  our  first  father  proved  victorious,  +hjii  one  temp- 
tation would  have  been  the  only  test  of  our  fidelity, 
and  the  free  will  of  onr  entire  kind  would  have  been 
fixed  in  a  rootedness  of  purpos*^  for  good,  in  an  inflex- 
ibility of  tendency  towflvds  the  divine  will,  which 
would  have  defied  and  prevented  every  repetition  of 
the  trial.    It  was  the  great  sti-uggle,  whether  the 
power  given  to  the  evil  one  to  tempt,  or  that  bestowed 
upon  man  to  resist,  should  become  perpetual ;  whether 
evil  should  have  an  active  .principle  in  creation ;  or 
virtue,  and   moral  perfection,  be  its  exclusive  law. 
The  seducer  triumphed,  man  was  vanquished;  and 
the  former  gained  the  power  for  which  he  had  wrestled, 
that  of  ever  disturbing  the  moral  order  of  things,  by 
his  suggestions ;  of  ever  holding  the  iron  sceptre  of  an 
antar: ..;.'?.  inf.uence  in  the  working  out  of  our  desti- 
nies   ari    f  keeping  up  an  eternal  conflict  between 
his  darkness  and  the  light  of  God,  between  death  and 

life,  evil  and  good. 
Evejy  religion,  e/eryphilosopLr,  had  been  aware 

18 


•j; 


iU 


ON  TEMPTATION. 


of  this  strange  conflict,  of  the  unaccountable  disturb- 
ance Thioh  seemed  to  have  occurred  in  the  nature  of 
man ;  of  the  torn,  disjointed  appearance  which  facul- 
ties nearly  connected  present,  as  though  riven  asunder 
by  a  suddon  convulsion,  and  of  the  medley  of  precious 
ore,  an  1  vile  drose,  which  some  unnatural  revolution 
had  produced  in  his  constitution.    Every  attempt  to 
solve  the  anomalous  problem  led  to  error;  the  phi- 
losophy of  the   east   imagined  an  evil  co-ordinate 
power  which  divided  sovereignty  with  the  better 
dt:it>,  and  thus,  at  once,  circumscribed  the  infinity, 
and^  destroyed  the  perfection  of  God.    The  Indian 
invented  a  still  more  fearful  representative  of  this 
power,  in  a  sanguinaiy  Godhead,  crowned  and  begirt 
with  serpents  and  human  skulls,  and  armed  in  his 
many  hands  with  weapons  of  destruction,  beneath 
which  the  human  race  is  crushed,  and  driven  into 
the  flames;  while  at  his  side  a  goddess  of  milder  as- 
pect, receiving  their  supplication,  represents  the  re- 
deeming or  regenerating  power,  which  yet  remains 
after  the  great  catastrophe.*    Others,  in  fine,  recurred 
to  an  eternal  inflexible  destiny,  which  ruled  over  gods 
themselves,  thwarted  their  benevolent  intentions,  and 
thus  made  evil  pai-amount  to  tht  very  attributes  of 

the  Deity, 

But  there  was  another  aspect,  still  more  solemn, 
wherein  this  problem  presented  itself  to  the  individual 
solution  of  each  mind,  and  appeared  involved  in  still 
more  irreconcilable  conditions.  The  soul  of  each  is  to 
its  possessor  the  scene  of  conflicts  which  he  cannot 

•  Bve  MJd  Vun.'d.    See  "  Creutier,  Iqr  Qulgnoftut,"  Pl»*e8.  %  ^ 


-mm 


^^5^9 


ble  distarb- 
le  nature  of 
vhich  facul- 
ven  asunder 
r  of  precious 
I  revolution 
r  attempt  to 
or ;  the  phi- 
co-ordinate 
the  better 
the  infinity, 
The  Indian 
itive  of  this 
I  and  begii-t 
rmed  in  his 
on,  beneath 
driven  into 
)f  milder  as- 
sents the  re- 
yet  remains 
fine,  recurred 
ed  over  gods 
tentions,  and 
attributes  of 

more  solemn, 
he  individual 
olved  in  still 
I  of  each  is  to 
eh  he  cannot 

PUtes,  fig.  24. 


ON   TEMPTATION. 


275 


compose.     He  seems  to  find  in  himself  a  two-fold  be- 
ing, a  diversity  of  wills  and  desires,  whereof  one  side 
ever  seems  opposed  to  his  Imppiness,  and  hardly  to 
belong  to  himself.     He  is  conscious  of  evil  suggestions, 
proposed  with  a  suddenness  and  an  inconsequence,  that 
make  them  seem  to  come  from  without, — of  envious  or 
malicious  whisperings,  which  no  inward  reflection  seems 
to  have  raised,  of  proud  emotions  which  spring  up 
with  a  startling  newness,  for  which  his  familiar  senti- 
ments may  in  nowise  account.    And  he  feels  that  he 
loaths  and  fears  these  unsought  ideas :  and  he  turns 
him  from  them,  yet  they  haunt  him  as  phantasies  which 
disappear  not,  when  the  eyelids  are  closed :  and  he 
adjures  them  by  every  name  that  is  most  poweriul, 
but  they  laugh  at  his  spell,  as  though  raised  not  by 
him ;  and  he  grapples  with  them  manfully,  but  they 
resist,  and  wrestle  with  him,  as  though  having  in  Ihem 
an  energy  and  life  distinct  from  his,  and  if  he  peree- 
vere  and  conquer,  he  seems  to  notice  the  sullenness  of 
the  retiring  foe,  who^  ever  and  anon,  looks  round  again 
and  wishes  to  renew  tho  skirmish,  and  keeps  him  for 
some  space  armed  and  upou  his  guard,  till  once  more 
he  feels  himself  alone.    In  his  solemn  musings  upon 
the  holiest  things,  he  experiences,  at  whiles,  an  imper- 
tinent intrusion  on  the  part  of  discordant  and  uncalled- 
for  recollections ;  in  his  secretest  communion  with  his 
own  spirit  upon  the  surest  truths,  the  voice  no  less 
secret  of  a  scoffing  advei-sary  seems  to  be  heard,  pro- 
posing ill-timed  and  jarring  objections,  which,  even 
suppressed,  cast  a  gloom  over  his  consoling  occupation, 
and  spread  a,  mysterious  cloud  over  the  blessed  visions, 
which  his  eye  had  caught.    The  purest  soul  seems  to 


I 


■ 


tsamt 


276 


ON  TBMPTATIOM. 


itself,  at  times,  defiled  by  the  presence  of  monstrous 
imaginings,  before  which  it  cowers  down  in  shnnking 
hoiTor;  the  aspirations  of  the  most  perfect  after  a 
union  with  God,  are  checked  and  arrested  l.y  the  niter- 
position  of  a  shifting  adveiiinry  who  seems  ever  to 
come  before  them;  and  the  blessedness  whereof  man 
is  capable,  end  which  should  be  summed  up  in  virtue, 
is  alloyed  and  disturbed  by  the  interference  of  another 
power,  mischievous,  as  unhappy,  with  every  effort  for 
its  consummation. 

This  complication  of  moral  phenomena,  forms  that 
mystery  of  temptation,  which  the  revelation  of  God 
hath  alone  sufficiently  explained,  and  which  the  gospel 
of  this  day  has  abundantly  set  forth. 

For,  in  the  fii-st  place,  we  here  learn  that,  as  m  the 
first  trial  of  man's  fidelity,  the  evil  spirit  actively  and  . 
pers^verently  strives  to  bring  us  into  the  commission 
of  sin  which  at  once  explains  that  instigation  to  wick- 
edness which,  in  spite  of  our  desires,  and  our  repug- 
nance, obstinately  pursues  us.    Difficult  as  it  is,  to 
account  for  this  powerful  energy  opposed  to  our  w^hes 
and  endeavors,  though   apparently   spnngmg   from 
faculties  under  the  mind's  control,  we  should  have 
attributed  it  simply  to  our  now  inborn  corrupUon,  had 
not  God's  holy  word  taught  us  to  view  the  conflict  m 
a  more  solcmu  light.     "For  our  wresthng,    says  St. 
Paul  "  is  not  against  flesh  and  blood,  but  against  prin- 
cipalities and  poweni ;  against  the  rulers  of  the  world 
of  this  darkness,  against  the  spirits  of  wickedness  m 
high  pW-es."     (Ephes,  v^.  12.)    Hence,  we  see  that 
the  evil  power  is  active  indeed,  though  so  only  peiv 
missively,  and  subordinately  to  a  wisely-counselling 


limn.  .AiiMWiwmwHwwun- • 


ON  TKMPTATIOIC. 


277 


r  monstrous 
n  tibrinkinji; 
feet  after  a 
)y  the  inter- 
ims ever  to 
hereof  man 
ip  in  virtue, 
!e  of  another 
iry  effort  for 

i,  forms  that 
tion  of  God 
h  the  gospel 

lat,  as  in  the 
actively  and  . 
}  commission 
ition  to  wick- 
d  our  repug- 
t  as  it  is,  to 
to  our  wishes 
ringing   from 
should  have 
)rruption,  had 
the  conflict  ia 
ling,"  says  St. 
t  against  prin- 
i  of  the  world 
wickedness  in 
),  we  see  that 
I  so  only  peiv 
sly-counselling 


and  well-directing  power  of  good.  We  learn,  that  tiio 
tempter,  is,  in  fact,  a  spirit  that  having  an  existence 
distinct  from  ours,  can  yet  communicate  inscrutably 
with  our  minds ;  and  thus  without  debasing,  like  tht-ni 
of  old,  the  supreme  Godhead  into  a  conttst  with  a 
rival  power,  or  still  more,  into  a  submission  to  a  con- 
straining destiny,  the  warfare  is  transferred  to  a  lower 
stage,  while  man  is  elevated  into  the  champion  against 
an  order  originally  higher  than  his  own,  >  ^t  than  his 
more  fallen ;  and  the  justice  and  gooduess  of  God  in 
this  permission,  to  harass  and  annoy,  is  amply  vindi- 
cated in  the  triumphs  of  His  might,  through  such 
feeble  instruments  as  we,  in  the  splendor  of  reward 
which  crowns  the  victories  of  His  conquerors,  and  in 
the  unspeakable  grandeur  of  redemption  which  could 
not  have  been  without  the  existence  of  thisv rampant 
energy  of  evil. 

All  this  is,  in  fact,  displayed  most  practically  in  the 
gospel  I  am  expounding.     In  it,  we  see  the  spotless 
Son  of  God,  whose  thoughts  were  united  ever  with 
the  all-perfect  mind  of  God,  even  Him  on  whom  no 
taint  of  man's  spiritual  mortality  had  been  breathed, 
subjected  to  the  same  trial,  and  the  same  engagement 
with  the  spirit  of  wickedness.     And,  shall  the  justest, 
then,  amongst  us  repine,  if  he  continue,  in  spite  of 
every  effort,  to  be  assailed  ?    Or,  shall  the  purest  of  us 
complain,  if  thoughts  which  make  him  shudder,  dis- 
turb the  sei-enity  of  his  holy  meditations  t    Who  shall 
be  exempt  from  inward  tribulation,  when  Jesus,  after 
forty  days'  fast  is  tempted  to  sensuality  1    Who  shall 
be  safe  from  the  world's  dangers,  when  on  the  summit 
of  a  rocky  mountain,  in  a  desert,  I£e  m\B  allured  towards 


ON  TlMFIATIOrf. 

ambition.  No:  here,  indeed,  the  juit  may  lenrn  tbat, 
even  their  vciy  holiness  Hhall  ha  to  them  raatttr  of 
danger  in  the  wily  enemy  s  hand;  fo-  they  »hall  1ms 
drawn  through  it  into  peril  of  i>re8umi>tuou»  pride, 
and  be  it^cited  to  fancy  that  they  are  secure  against  a 
fall,  because  "God  hath  given  His  angels  a  charge 
over  thorn,  to  bear  thera  up  in  their  hands.  (Matt, 
iv.  6.)  What  greater  comfort  could  we,  who  are  im- 
perfect and  sinful,  have  in  the  humiliation  of  our  con- 
stant incitements  to  traosgresn.  ihan  thus  to  s«e  how 
lie,  who  >va8  undefiled  from  birth,  should  have  been 
assailed  with  untiring  obH'inacy,  and  unchecked  ef. 
froutery,  in  this.  His  three-fold  temptation. 

But  our  courage  will  Gurely  i>e  much  increased  by 
the  consideration  of  how  h(  re  is  exemplified  another 
part  in  the  mysterious  action  of  this  wicked  i  )wer,  it« 
dependence  on  a  divine  permission.    M.  Paul  has 
beautifully  expressed  this  assurance,  when  he  tells  the 
Corinthians,  that  "God  is  faithful,  who  will  not  suffer 
us  to  be  tempted  above  that  which  we  are  able,  but 
will  make  also  with  temptation  issue  (or  means  of  es- 
cape),  that  we  may  be  able  to  bear."     (1  Cor.  x.  18.) 
This  matter  is  amply  set  out  in  the  touching  history 
of  Job,  wherein  the  tempter  is  represented  as  obtain- 
log  a  leave  to  ae^ay  that  faithful  servant,  under  con- 
ditions and  limitations  which  God  held  in  His  hand. 
And  when  the  first  strokes,  heavy  indeed,  and  to 
mortal  endurance  terrible,  had  but  confirmed  His  viv 
tue,  and  ha.  dened  Him  for  a  weightier  calamity,  those 
limits  were  further  enlarged,  and  the  reins  of  permis- 
sion  somewhat  relaxed,  that  so,  his  virtue  might  be 
perfected  and  rewarded,  through  the  infirmity  of  the 


sosssim 


MWATIOK. 


270 


^j 


^  lenrn  tbat, 

!>    nifttt*'!'   of 

ley  «liaU  Im 
tuouB  pride, 
ire  agaiDSt  a 
sis  a  charge 
ids.  (Matt 
who  are  im- 
1  of  our  con- 
!  to  nee  how 
d  have  beeu 
ncheckcd  ef- 

increased  by 
ified  another 
ed  1  )wer,  its 
^t.  Paul  has 
a  he  tells  the 
irill  not  sufl'er 
are  able,  but 
•  raeaua  of  es- 
L  Cor.  X.  13.) 
shing  history 
ted  as  obtain* 
it,  under  con- 
in  His  hand, 
ileed,  and  to 
rmed  His  vii^. 
alamity,  those 
ins  of  permis* 
tue  might  be 
firmity  of  the 


Urth.  (8  Cor.  .xiii.  9.)  Kv«n  so  do  we  And  in  our 
gosiwl  TKii'ty  years  Jtmis  bad  lived,  quiet  and  n* 
disl  hI  bv  the  attempts  of  the  vvicked  one;  but 
when,  at  length,  it  was  time  for  the  manift-station  of 
His  splendid  virtues  befoiv  the  worid,  and  when  it 
was  decrefd  fitting  by  His  alinigliiy  Father,  that  Ho 
should  give  glory  to  Him  through  His  prowess  against 
the  foe,  the  Ho^  "Spirit  lend-  Him  by  the  hand  into 
the  lists,  for  that  purpose  pre]  a  .d,  and  the  infernal 
dragon  is  unchained,  to  fepl  hit,  ining  baffled,  his 
venomous  gall  crushed  out,  nd  bin  might  trampled 
under  foot,  by  one  in  the  huiuun  form  whereat  he  had 
ever  mocked. 

Thus  we  b.  )  that,  even  where  danger  was  sure  of 
failure,  yet  a  disposing  order  of  Providence  chose  the 
time,  and  place,  and  outward  circumstances  of  the  con- 
flict:  and   how  much   more  will  that  watchfulness, 
jealous  of  our  welfare,  as  of  its  own  honor,  be  exer- 
cised,  when  the  frail  aud  the  feeble  are  summoned  to 
engage  ?     Yea,  8(     iixions  was  our  beloved  Saviour  for 
our  advantage  an<'  instruction,  that  He  submitted  even 
in  the  more  essential  circumstances  of  His  tempta- 
tions, to  a  likeness,  so  far  as  consistent  with  His  un- 
defiled  nature,  with  those  which  we  may  suffer.    For 
three-fold,  as  you  have  been  taught,  is  the  battle-front 
of  our  warfare,  and  three-fold  was  the  form  of  His 
temptation.    Inasmuch  as  we  have  been  called  to  make 
ft  triple  renunciation  of  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the 
devil.  He,  on  His  part,  received  the  attacks  of  these 
very  three  forms  tinder  which  the  evil  principle  pre- 
sents itself. 
For,  as  to  the  world  and  its  gaudy  pomps,  it  as- 


.jmmm 


S80 


ON   TkMm'AltOM. 


Mult««a  Him  whon  on  the  moiinUln,  in  tliat  oxhihUion 
of  the  kingdonjn  of  fftrtli  which  w«re  «»fr«i««l  Him,  on 
th«  unworthy  contlition  of  «loinj?  homiige,  iw  too  niuny 
have  (lone,  to  th.>  wickiMl  one,  whoso  eUven  they  be- 
came to  gain  pre-eminenw.     Th«n,  m  touching  the 
fleih,  it  could  not  indeed  urge  and  prick  Him,  m  tl»e 
rest  of  men,  with  unholy  de«ire«;  but,  it  strove  to 
persuade  Him  to  a  premature  miracle  for  the  gratifl- 
cation  of  its  wants,  and  the  satisfaction  of  a  craving 
appetite,  sharpened  by  so  long  a  fiwt.     And  then  the 
devil,  in  his  more  proper  shape,  appeared  as  Lucifer 
the  king  of  pride,  instigating  Him  to  conflde  preHump. 
tuously  in  His  great  holiness,  nnd  acceptance  by  God, 
and,  in  haughtiness  of  heart,  throw  Himself  hewUoug 
into  the  anus  of  guardian-spirits,  who  waited  on  Him 
to  keep  Him  from  a  fall. 

Thus  it  was  that  Ho  determined  to  show  Himself  as 
tho  apostle  hjia  described  Him,  "  tempted  in  all  things 
like  as  we  are,  yet  without  siu."     (Heb.  iv.  15.)    Ah  I 
yes,  my  dear  brethren,  here  is  the  great  diflference  be- 
tween us;   here,  unhappily,  the  resemblance  termi- 
nates.    He  went  through  His  trial  unscathed ;  wc  too 
often  come  away  crippled  and  sadly  hurt,  if  not  posi- 
tively  overcome.     But  let  us  not  therefore   repine. 
T^t  us  rather  rejoice,  that  He,  our  champion  and  head, 
did,  by  the  completeness  of  His  victory,  fully  avenge 
the  overthrow  of  our  first  parent,  in  our  first  tempti». 
tion ;  and  in  our  flesh,  win  again  the  crown  which  our 
father,  in  the  flesh,  had  forfeited.     And  hence,  we  see 
a  certain  proportion  kept  between  their  two  tempta- 
tions, yet,  80  that  the  contest  wherein  the  enemy  was 
to  be  baffled,  should  be  such,  as  to  give  him  every 


IE?«i 


at  «xhibitton 
ar«<l  Him,  uu 
,  as  tt)o  miiny 
Avtm  they  be- 
touchitig  the 
c  llirn,  M  tilt) 

it  itrove  to 
)r  the  gmtifl- 

of  ft  craving 
A.n(l  thea  the 
•ed  M  Lucif«r 
1 11(1  e  prt'sump- 
lance  by  God, 
iself  headlong 
rnited  ou  Htm 

low  Himself  as 
d  in  all  things 
iv.  15.)    Ahl 
difference  be- 
ablance  terrai- 
athed ;  wc  too 
ift,  if  not  posi- 
jrefore   repine, 
pion  and  head, 
y,  fully  avenge 
ir  fli-st  temptiv 
own  which  our 
i  hence,  we  see 
ir  two  tempta- 
tbe  enemy  was 
five  him  every 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  1<J580 

(716)  872-4503 


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microfiches. 


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ON  TE51PTATI0N. 


281 


I 


apparent   chnnce  of  victory.     The  first  sinner  was 
allured  by  a  fruit  tempting  to  the  eye,  amidst  a  para- 
dise overgrown  by  all  that  man's  appetite  conld  re- 
quire or  desire,  to  be  gathered  at  will;  the  second 
Adam  was  solicited  to  the  allaying  of  actual  hunger, 
by  simple  bread,  in  a  howling  wilderness,  where  none 
could  relieve  His  wants.    Our  first  parents  were  se- 
duced by  Ihe  vain  and  impossible  otfer  of  becoming 
like  unto  God :  our  Regenerator  was  assayed  by  the 
feasible  promise  of  becoming  an  earthly  sovereign. 
For  as  in  the  first  respect,  the  greatness  of  the  urgen- 
cy, so  in  the  second,  the  smallness  of  the  reward  — 
gi-eat  in  itself,  but  still  within  compass— must  have 
made  oui     x)rd's  temptation  the   more  formidable. 
And  yet  He  conquered,  where  the  othei-s  were  over- 
come :  so  to  make  the  enemy  of  man  not  a  little  to 
rue  iiis  early  success,  in  the  mortification  of  this  great 
discomfiture,  which  opened  a  new  unending  series  of 
victories  to  be  achieved  by  regenerated  followera,  wbo 
thus  were  taught  to  conquer,  through  His  example 
and  in  His  name. 

For,  after  all,  my  brethren,  the  great  resolution  of 
the  mystery  here  given  by  Him,  so  far  as  we  are  con- 
cerned, consists  in  His  justifying  to  us  the  mercies  of 
God  in  His  permission  of  this  work  of  evil ;  by  show- 
ing how  necessary  it  is  unto  our  crown,  and  how  easily 
it  may  be  turned  to  our  advantage.  Yes ;  the  short- 
est demonstration  of  any  solution  is  in  the  success  of 
its  application.  Easily  will  that  general  meet  the 
question  of  a  discontented  host,  "  wherefore  have  we 
been  brought  into  this  danger?"  who  can  but  delay 
his  reply,  till  on  the  yielded  battle-field  he  may  point 


■fht* 


382 


ON  TBMPTATION. 


at  the  enemy's  spoil,  and  merely  say,  "  to  conquer. 
This  it  was  that,  above  all  other  things,  Jesus  had  m 
view  vhen  He  submitted  to  temptation,  to  encourage 
us  by  showing  how  easy  this  victory  is;  nor  will  it  be 
difficult,  by  running  over  the  chiefest  circumstances  to 
be  noted  in  our  gospel,  to  discover  how  He  brought 
us  to  this  knowledge. 

And  fii-st  we  see,  how  to  each  temptation  he  op- 
posed a  fitting  resistance,  which,  as  by  a  sudden  blow, 
at  once  disconcerted  and  baffled  His  cunning  enemy. 
For  when  He  was  asked  to  change  stones  into  bread, 
He  turned  His  thoughts  to  the  contemplation  of  better 
things  than  such  as  satisfy  the  body.    He  compared 
things  spiritual,  to  things  temporal;  weighed  the  pure 
delight  of  the  former,  against  the  emptiness  and  disap- 
pointments of  the  latter.      He  thought  of  the  far 
greater  importance  of  nourishing  the  soul  m  virtue, 
and  strengthening  it  unto  perfection,  and  summed  up 
the  momentous  conclusion  of  His  thoughts  in  that  ex- 
pressive  saying,  that  not  on  bread  alone,  not  on  the 
meat  that  perisheth,  doth  man  live,  but  upon  the 
word  of  his  God,  its  sweet  hopes  and  its  unfading 
promises.    And  such,  too,  should  be  our  preparation 
for  the  daily  assaults  of  worldly  solicitude,  and  the 
cravings  of  insatiable  humanity;  to  make  the  will  of 
our  Father  our  daily  food,  to  prefer  like  the  Jewish 
crowd  many  days  of  Jesus'  company  in  a  desert,  fast- 
ing,  to  the  care  of  the  body,  and  so  disentangle  our 
hearts  from  the  bondage  of  the  flesh,  till  our  converaa- 
tion  is  all  in  Heaven.    And  thus  shall  we  be  well  pre- 
pared for  every  assault  which  our  unruly  app'itites  or 
vidn  desires  may  attempt 


irfihiiit 


ON   TEMPTATION. 


283 


o  conquer." 
Fesus  had  ia 

0  enconrage 
or  will  it  be 
imatances  to 
He  brought 

ition  he  op- 
udden  blow, 
ning  enemy. 
}  into  bread, 
ion  of  better 
le  compared 
ded  the  pure 
83  and  diaap- 
;  of  the  far 
)ul  in  virtue, 

1  summed  up 
ts  in  that  ex- 
e,  not  on  the 
ut  upon  the 

its  unfailing 
r  preparation 
iide,  and  the 
ce  •  the  will  of 
e  the  Jewish 
a  desert,  fast- 
sentangle  our 
our  conversa- 
e  be  well  pre- 
y  app'ititea  or 


We  cannot,  indeed,  doubt  but  that  so  simple  an 
enunciation  as  our  Saviour  on  each  occasion  employed 
was  in  this  manner  but  the  expression  of  many  and 
complicated  feelings.      For,  when  the  arch-deceiv* 
bore  Him  up  into  the  lofty  mountain  and  showed  Him 
all  the  kingdoms  of  earth,  with  all  their  bravery  and 
ali  their  strength,  little  did  he  consider  how  diflferent 
from  what  he  desired  was  the  look  to  Him  he  tempt- 
ed.    The  one  i)ointed  out  the  rich  and  varied  prospect, 
fair  as  the  valley  of  Jordan  before  the  Lord  over- 
threw Sodoir  .  V  d  Gomom.h,  or  as  Egypt  to  tliem  that 
came  down  from  Emath  :  while  the  other  was  busy 
counting  the  venomous  serpents  that  trailed  among  its 
flowers,  and  the  crested  aspics  that  coiled  on  every 
path.    The  tempter  bid  Him  mark  the  sumptuous 
palaces  of  princes,  and  hearken  to  the  din  of  wassail 
that  sounded  from  them ;  and  He  saw  through  their 
•walk  into  the  unwholesome  banquet-room,  and  studied 
the  wasteful  riot  which,  li!;e  the  drunkard,  of  Ephraim, 
treads  under  foot  a  crown  of  glory  (Is.  xxxviii.  3),  and 
the  dull,  brutalized  countenances  of  the  revellers,  and 
the  gloomy  recklessness  of  the  spendthrift  host,  with 
the  lamb  from  the  poor  man's  bosom  upon  his  table, 
and  the  unpitied  L  :rrus  at  his  door.    The  deceiver 
would  show  Him  His  future  armies  squadroned  for 
victory  under  their  flaunting  bannei-s,  and  in  glittering 
array.    But  on  every  hand  He  sees  a  stain  of  innocent 
blood,  and  on  every  shoulder  a  load  of  spoil  that  crieth 
to  Heaven  for  vengeance  on  behalf  of  the  widow  and 
orphan.    Then  would  he  point  out  the  crowded  cities 
throbbing  with  life  through  every  avenue  as  men 
paced  to  and  fro,  all  busy,  and  intent  on  their  various 


pna^tai 


284 


ON    TEMPTATION. 


piirsuUs.     But  the  oiiun-  not  only  sees  but  knows  them 
nil :  the  one  is  the  ])iowling  thief  that  goes  ftbout  to 
snatch  bis  prey,  and  the  other  the  assassin  that  is 
tracking  liis  victim ;  this  is  the  adulterer  that  is  watch- 
ing his  hour  to  enter,  that,  the  fiend's  own  ally,  the  se- 
ducer of  innocence.    In  fine,  he  will,  perhaps,  direct  our 
blessed  Saviour's  eye  to  this  Imperial  City,  and  amidst 
the  gorgeous  piles  of  magnificent  edifices,  open  to  Ilira 
one  where  the  crowned  despot  sits  upon  the  world's 
throne,  dooming  its  inhabitan  .3  as  his  slaves,  and  dictat- 
ing laws  to  prostrate  princes.      "  This,"  he  tells  Him, 
"shall  be  your  place,  these  shall  be  your  honore, — all 
tl+c  world  can  give."     But  He  whom  he  addresses 
hears  him  not;  His  eye  hath  pierced  through  the 
double  folds  of  the  purple  robe,  and  searched  a  heart 
wherein  every  black  passion  seethes  and  foams  in  fear- 
ful agitation ;  He  hath  raised  the  wi-eath  from  his  brow, 
and  found  that  its  bay-leaves  cut  more  deeply,  and 
strain  more  cruelly  than  shall  His  own  thorns  on  Cal- 
vary.    And,  in  all  thl    "irhat  temptation  could  there 
be,  save  to  disgust  aud  abhorrence,  rather  than  to 
jealousy  or  ambition  ?    And  thus  shall  we,  too,  con- 
quer, if,  not  content  with  the  surface  and  outside  show 
of  things  that  tempt  us,  we  endeavor  to  penetrate 
within.    For  then  shall  we  discover  them  to  be  hollow 
and  naught,  and  hold  them  for  despicable  rather  than 
to  be  desired.    And  in  this  manner,  too,  we  shall  be 
brought  justly  to  estimate  the  base  condition  whereon 
they  are  to  be  purchased :  that  of  falling  down  and 
worshipping  the  monster  who  tempts  us,  in  the  hideous 
form  of  that  vice  or  passion  which  he  solicits  us  to 
gratify.    And,  in  conclusion,  we  shall  leai*n  how  God 


ON    TEMPTATION. 


985 


knows  them 
88  ftbout  to 
810  that  is 
I  at  is  watch- 
ally,  the  se- 
ts, direct  our 
,  and  amidst 
pen  to  Ilim 
the  world's 
s,  and  dictat- 
e  tells  Him, 
honore, — all 
le  addresses 
hrough  the 
hed  a  heart 
oams  in  fear- 
)m  his  brow, 
deeply,  and 
3rns  on  Cal- 
could  there 
hsr  than  to 
we,  too,  con* 
mtside  show 
bo  penetrate 
to  be  hollow 
rather  than 
we  shall  be 
ion  whereon 
f  down  and 
I  the  hideous 
olicits  us  to 
rn  how  God 


alone  is  great,  and  how  He  alone  is  worthy  to  b« 
adored  and  served  as  our  true  and  loving  Master. 

But  why,  my  brethren,  did  our  Redeemer  choose  to 
be  tempted  in  a  desert  ?     Doubtless,  that  He  might 
better  show  how,  even  in  the  solitude  of  our  thoughts, 
wo  should  resist  and  repel  the  suggestions  of  evil. 
When  the  tempter's  offers  were  made,  there  was  no 
ear  to  witness  them.     Had  He  yielded  and  obtained 
tHt  world's  mastery— I  suppose  an  impossibility  for 
the  better  illustration  of  the  matter— none  would  have 
knovn  but  that  He  had  honorably  acquired  it ;  He 
would,  in  fact,  have  gained  it  as  well  as  did  many  who 
held  it.     But  even  in  that  loneliness.  He  wished  to 
show  tha>  the  brightness  of  God  shone  no  less  than  in 
His  temple ;  aud  we  must  resist  to  the  last,  from  re- 
gard not  to  man  or  his  opinions,  but  to  God  and  His 
judgments.    Nor  even  thus  much  are  you  then  alone. 
Never  are  we  so  completely  made  a  spectacle  worthy 
of  angels  as  when  we  wrestle  with  temptation.    Where- 
fore, think  you,  is  it  recorded,  that  when  tie  devil 
departed  from  cur  blessed  Saviour,  angels  came  and 
ministered  unto  Him  ?    Is  it  not  that  they  had  been 
interested  spectators  of  the  previous  contest ;  admiring 
the  beautiful  skill  wherewith  each  assault  was  met 
and  baffled— applauding,  by  silent  smiles  the  glorious 
victory,  and  drawing  nearer  and  nearer  at  each  down- 
fall of  the  foe,  with  the  food  of  Heaven  which  they 
bore  ?    And  when  we  in  our  turn  are  placed,  as  in  an 
amphitheatre,  before  them,  like  gladiators  to  contend 
for  an  inccrruptible  crown,  for  a  seat  amidst  their 
thrones,  shall  we  not  feel  a  new  courage  in  this  very 
thought  ?    Shall  we  not  see  in  every  countenance  of 


^M'kka 


286 


ON   TRMPTATION. 


that  glorious  oflseinMnge  a  new  incentive  tc  be  brave, 
that  it  may  smile  upon  us ;  shall  not  each  right  hand 
appear  stretched  out  to  us,  waving  a  cbapk't  prepared 
to  crown  us ;  shall  not  every  voice  serve  to  applaud  at 
every  successful  blow  that  we  inflict,  not  to  sigh  in 
sorrow  at  every  slip  of  our  foot,  every  unsteadiness  of 
our  hand  3  And  thus  surrounded,  thus  supported, 
thus  cheered  on,  by  those  who  witness  our  contest  and 
pray  for  our  succcvjs,  can  any  further  encouragement 
"be  held  out! 

Yes,  my  brethren,  one  more  there  is,  that  is  greater 
than  the  rest.  It  w^as  on  a  mountain  that  our  Saviour 
was  tempted,  and  it  must  bo  to  His  mountain  that  we 
must  fly  for  refuge  if  we  wish  to  be  safe.  To  Calvary 
with  your  passions  if  ever  they  molest  you ;  to  Gol- 
gotha  lead  the  false  deceiver  who  wishes  to  entrap 
you !  Thence  from  the  foot  of  the  cross,  clasping  itt 
sacred  stem,  as  Joab  did  the  b^orns  of  the  altar;  tell 
him  to  descant  to  you  on  the  value  of  earthly  things, 
and  on  the  beauty  of  a  prospect,  over  Haceldama  and 
Olivet,  scenes  of  treachery  and  of  anguish,  over  a  faith* 
less  crowd  below,  and  an  angry,  darkened  heavea 
above.  There  tell  him  to  declaim  upon  the  glories  of 
earth's  kingdoms,  when  Heaven's  King  is  crowned 
with  thorns;  tell  him  to  expatiate  on  the  gratifications 
of  sinful  pleasures,  while  the  Lamb  of  God  is  bleeding 
at  every  pore  to  expiate  its  gtlilt ;  allow  him  to  tempt 
you  with  all  that  the  world  can  give,  at  its  owa  hard 
price,  when  Heaven  and  its  eternal  treasures  may  be 
obtained  free  costl  There  take  your  stand;  there 
keep  your  hold ;  one  look  into  the'  mild  countenance 
of  Him  who  hangs  upon  that  tree,  better  to  you  than 


m  ilfc  ■■ 


tc  be  brave, 
1  light  Imnd 
>lat  prepared 
u  applaud  at 
t  to  sigh  in 
Hteadinem  of 
s  supported, 
r  contest  and 
icourageinent 

bat  is  greater 
;  our  Saviour 
itain  that  we 
To  Calvaiy 
you;  to  Gol- 
les  to  entrap 
9,  clasping  its 
le  altar;  tell 
irthly  things, 
iceldama  and 
I,  over  a  faith- 
ened  heaven 
the  glories  of 
^  is  crowned 
gratifications 
>d  is  bleeding 
him  to  tempt 
its  owa  hard 
gurea  may  be 
stand ;  there 
i  countenance 
:  to  you  than 


A 


.•w^ 


ON  TEMPTATIOir. 


287 


that  of  Mnmbre,  beneath  which  angels  reposed,  will 
animate  you  to  IJh^  conflict ;  one  word  from  His  lij)* 
will  put  your  fears  to  everlastingshnmo  ;  and  one  drop 
of  His  sacred  blood  will  wipe  away  the  sweat,  and 
heal  all  the  wounda,  of  your  unequal  conflict.  Yes,  it 
by  ever  hoping  in  Ilim,  ever  loving  Him,  and  ever 
turning,  in  the  hour  of  danger,  to  the  contemplation  of 
Him  crucified,  to  stiengthen,  to  save,  and  to  bless  you, 
that  you  will  overcome  every  temptation,  and  break 
through  every  snare. 

Be  then,  my  brethren,  as  valiant  soldiere  of  Christ, 
ever  armed  and  ever  ready,  remembering  that  your 
enemy,  like  a  roaring  lion,  ever  goeth  about  seeking 
■whom  he  may  devour.  Rush  not  into  the  danger,  but 
still  fear  it  not.  Are  you  yet  young  in  virtue,  engaged 
in  slippery  warfare  with  passions  untamed,  and  rebel- 
lious even  after  defeat  ?  The  field  of  war  is  your  prop- 
er element.  Your  armor  of  proof  must  never  be  un- 
buckled, the  shield  of  faith  must  ever  hang  over  your 
head.  Be  faithful  to  the  end,  and  ye  shall  have  the 
crown  of  life.  But  do  any  of  you  complain  that  you 
have  fought  your  good  fight,  and  have  not  proved 
braggarts,  but  have  vanquislied  in  the  name  of  your 
God,  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  yet  that  still  a  sting  of  the 
flesh  is  left  you,  an  angel  of  Satan  whobuflfeteth  youl 
The  grace  of  God  still  suflBceth  for  your  complete  vi& 
tory.  These  are  trials  no  longer  of  your  fidelity,  but 
steps  towards  your  perfection ;  opportunities  for  new 
merit,  and  for  gaining  brighter  rewards.  For,  when 
the  lord  of  the  vineyard  wishes  to  shake  from  its 
flowers  a  sweeter  odor,  or  to  display  its  colore  in  a 
brighter  splendor,  he  must  needs  command  a  ruder 


tnami 


288 


ON    TEMPTATION. 


hveete  to  ruffle  it  and  disturb  it«  repose.  WheneTtr 
he  in  tempted,  the  Christian  is  treading  in  the  foot- 
steps of  hia  Lord,  and  whoso  with  Ilim  conquer,  with 
Him  and  by  Him  shall  be  crowned. 


' 


! 

i 

\ 

I 

I  i 


y 


■I'lHim    ■■ill  II I 


Whenever 

in  the  foot- 

jonqucr,  with 


SERMON  XIV. 
tlic  itnQdani  ol  Cbriit. 

luiAS,  U.  9, 1. 

"  In  tli«  but  dkyi,  Ui«  moantatn  of  tb«  houM  of  th«  Ixnd  alukll  b* 
pnpwad  OB  Um  top  of  nxmntklni,  tad  It  ihall  b«  cullad  abort  the 
hllU,  and  all  aatlona  ahall  flow  unto  It.  And  many  people  ahall  go  and 
Mjr :    Cknne,  let  oa  go  op  to  the  mountain  of  the  Lord." 


From  the  circumstances  under  which  our  blessed 
Bedeemer  first  manifested  Himself  in  the  flesh,  it  is  no 
wonder,  ray  brethren,  that  His  advent  should  have 
been  so  little  noticed  by  the  people  whom  He  came 
to  save.  When  the  emperor's  edict  went  forth,  enjoin< 
ing  a  general  enrolment,  and  commanding  that  for  this 
object  every  family  should  repair  to  its  ancestral  city, 
we  oan  easily  conceive  the  universal  movement  which 
it  would  produce,  and  the  various  interests  which  it 
would  awaken ;  and  these  alone  would  sufficiently 
occupy  the  minds  of  men  to  leave  them  neither  in- 
clination nor  leisure  to  observe  this  momentous 
arrival. 

For  it  was  natural  that  each  one  should  be  anxious 
to  trace  his  origin  to  the  most  noble  stock ;  and,  if  he 
could  establish  such  a  claim,  to  display  an  appearance 
suited  to  his  asserted  rank.  It  is,  however,  easy  to 
imagine  bow  proud  and  happy,  beyond  all,  they  must 
have  felt,  who,  desct  ided  from  the  royal  lineage  of 


t90 


THE   KIKODOM   OF  CHlffllT. 


David,  had  now  an  opportunity  of  BupportiiK  their 
prtiteiiwonii  in  th«  fac«  of  th«  \f\w\«  nation,  and  ro- 
c«iving  an  official  and  authontative  confirmation  of 
their  claima.  Doulitieiw  no  sacriflco  would  b«  ipared 
which  could  enable  th^m  to  support  their  wwumi'd 
diutinctton ;  any  «>xp<!n»ie  would  be  cheerfully  incurred 
to  travel  with  a  train,  and  apiKvn-  with  a  Bplendor  be- 
coming the  menibei-fl  of  a  royal  houw?— of  i»  house 
now  expecting  the  restoration  of  ita  rights,  in  its  head 
— the  coming  MeMsiah. 

It  is  amidst  all  this  parade  and  all  this  pride  that  a 
little  group  is  seen  to  advance  slowly  towards  Bethle- 
hem,  the  royal  city,  from  the  mean  and  obscure  vil- 
lage of  Nazareth.     A  poor  artizan  guides  the  wearied 
steps  of  the  humble  beast  of  burden,  whereon  is  borne 
a  tender  lady,  apparently  unfit,  from  her  condition,  for 
so  long  and  toilsome  a  journey.    To  their  straitened 
circumstances  in  life,  obedience  to  the  imperial  edict 
is  a  serious  inconvenience;  to  their  poverty,  their 
royal  lineage  is  rather  a  reproach  and  a  burden  than 
an  honor.    Humble,  meek,  and  unpretending,  they  are 
passed  on  the  road  by  the  crowds,  who  hasten  forward, 
with  a  feeling  of  contempt  and  almost  of  shame,  that 
'  their  noble  blood  should  be  disgraced  by  so  igno- 
ble  an  alliance.    They  creep,  where  others  run;  and 
so,  when  they  arrive  at  their  journey's  end,  no  friendly 
greeting  cheers   them,  no  claim  of  kindred  salutes 
them.      Every  place  of  lodging  has  been  occupied, 
until,  to  that  tender  maid  and  mother,  no  shelter  i» 
left  but  a  stable,  and  no  cradle  but  its  manger. 

And  yet,  my  brethren,  not  even  the  Ark  of  the 
Covenant,  when  it  went  forth  to  victory  over  the  ene- 


mmtltmmtltmMmm 


pportiifjf  their 
rjftti«)n,  Rn<l  ii»- 
>onflrniation  of 
tuld  be  ipftiwl 

thoir  nsHunu'd 
irfally  incurrwd 

a  Hpleiulor  he- 
w — t)f  h  house 
;htii,  in  its  hood 

lis  pride  that  ft 
owardfl  Bethle- 
id  obscure  vil« 
Jes  the  wearied 
hereon  is  borne 
er  condition,  for 
their  straitened 
B  imperial  edict 

poverty,  their 
a  burden  than 
ending,  they  are 
hasten  forward, 

of  shame,  that 
led  by  so  igno- 
)ther8  run;  and 
1  end,  no  friendly 
kindred  salutes 

been  occupied, 
er,  no  shelter  is 

manger. 

the  Ark  of  the 
iry  over  the  ene- 


Tffii  itroonoii  OF  onniMT. 

mi«s  of  G(m1,  e(icorti>d  by  squadrons  of  Levitos,  and 
gru«t(>d  by  the  shouts  of  tlio  whole  |>eoplfl — not  even 
it,  movml  forward  with  half  that  intertist  to  Heaven, 
or  half  that  promise  to  ««nrth,  with  which  this  humble 
Virgin,  bearing  within  her,  in  silen<!e  and  neglect,  the 
richest  work  which  Almighty  God  had  yet  created. 
More  than  the  Old  Ark — true  Ark  of  the  Covenant- 
she  bears  its  law(^iver,  not  its  sculptured  *  ^ws.  Upon 
this  little  household  angels  attend  with  care,  mor« 
than  for  the  ordinary  just,  lest  they  should  dash  their 
foot  Against  a  stone.  For  in  it  are  centred  all  the 
counsels  of  Heaven,  since  the  creation  of  man ;  on  its 
safety  depends  the  fulfilment  oi" prophecy,  the  consum- 
mation of  the  law,  and  the  redemption  of  the  woHd. 
How  true  it  is,  my  brethren,  that  the  kingdom  of 
Heaven  came  "  without  observation !"  (Luke,  xvii.  20.) 
And  yet,  though  existing  from  that  day  to  this,  how 
often  it  is  overlooked  with  negligence  far  more  unpar- 
donable than  was  that  of  the  Jewish  peo|)le  I  For  ita 
characteristics  have  now  been  clearly  defined,  and  ren- 
dered most  conspicuous.  Hence,  while  the  Church, 
during  the  seven  days  before  Christmas,  directs  part 
of  her  offices*  to  proclaim  the  titles  and  honors  attrib- 
uted by  the  ancient  prophets  to  the  Son  of  God,  she 
hardly  passes  over  one  day,  without  repeating  this 
noblest  prerogative  of  being  King  over  all  the  Faith- 
ful. For  there  can  be  none  more  glorious  to  Himself 
nor  more  honorable  to  her,  than  this  universal  domin- 
ion by  His  religion,  which  His  Father  bestowed  upoa 
Him  at  His  own  special  request,  and  of  which  she 

•  Antlphou  O,  «t  the  Magn^fieai. 


mtttmm 


r 


292 


THE   KINGDOM    OF  CHRIST. 


forms  at  once  the  object  and  the  depositor.  It  «, 
therefore,  to  this  high  and  most  '^^V^'''^^^r'''£, 
tive  enjoyed  upon  earth  by  the  new-born  Kmg,  that 
I  wishUtnrn 'your  attention;  and  to  trace  rapidly 
to  your  view  the'  prophecies  which  describe  it,  rfhd 
their  subsequent  fulfilment  will  be  the  object  of  a  few 

'*  The  'faiure  kingdom  of  the  Messias  was  the  very 
soul  of  Jewish  prophecy.    The  humble  character  o 
His  birth  and  life,  His  labors.  His  ««f  "«f  ;"f^^^ 
death,  were  inaeed  contemplated  and  described  by  the 
venerable  messengers  of  God.    But  it  is  only  in  an 
occasional  and  rapid  sketch  that  these  painful  s  enes 
are  represented.    Each  comes  like  a  gloomy  cloud, 
overcasting  the  mind  of  the  seer,  on  which  are  d  - 
cidedly,  bSt  evanescently,  traced  the  outlines  of  his 
Redeemer's  life  and  death  ;  but  which  always  breaks 
into  a  flood  of  light  and  glory,  like  that  which  canopied 
the  apostles  on  Thabor,  when  He  discoursed  with 
Moses  and  Elias.     (Luc.  ix.  31.)  ..vfori  in 

If  to  David,  His  great  ancestor,  He  is  exhibited  m 
excess  of  agony,  with  His  hands  and  feet  pierced.  His 
garments  divided  among  His  unrelenting  and  insult, 
ing  persecutoi-s,  and  crying  for  help  to  God,  who  a^ 
peared  to  have  abandoned  Him,  it  is  only  that  he 
^ay  be  more  gladdened  by  the  conclusion  of  the  same 
prophecy ;  that  in  consequence  of  these  Buffe""g«    f^ 
the  ends  of  the  earth  shall  remember  and  shall  be 
converted  to  the  Lord,  and  all  the  kindreds  of  the 
Gentiles  shall  adore  in  His  sight.    For  the  hngdom 
is  the  Lw^d\  and  he  shall  have  dominion  over  the 
nations."     (Ps.  xxii.  28, 29.)    Hence,  no  sooner  is  this 


ifc  ■«■  i\ttL<i»Hm'i^ttikmti^*- ' ' 


»$0mK  #*)ii<fc»iiinwiiiii 


THE   KINQDOU   OF  OHRIBT. 


293 


»itor.  It  is, 
ant  preroga- 
1  King,  that 
i-noe  rapidly 
;ribe  it,  adid 
ject  of  a  few 

vas  the  very 
character  of 
ings,  and  His 
jribed  by  the 
,8  only  in  an 
painful  scenes 
rloomy  cloud, 
rhich  are  de- 
atlineo  of  his 
always  breaks 
hich  canopied 
scoursed  with 

s  exhibited  in 
at  pierced,  His 
Dg  and  insult* 
t  God,  who  ap- 

only  that  he 
on  of  the  same 

sufferings  "  all 
V  and  shall  be 
Lindreds  of  the 
or  the  hivgdom 
linion  over  the 
10  sooner  is  this 


theme  touched  in  nny  of  the  inspired  writings,  than 
the  prophetic  vision  glows  in  ail  its  splendor,  the  most 
brilliant  imagery  is  employed  to  detail  its  promises, 
and  the  most  animated  phraseology  to  express  its 
hopes.  As  the  coui-se  of  ages  flowed  on  towards  its 
completion,  new  tmits  were  added  which,  without 
effacing  the  preceding,  more  strikingly  defined  their 
object ;  that  was  more  minutely  described  which  be- 
fore had  been  only  generally  expressed,  and  the  future 
kingdom  of  the  Son  of  David  is  distinctly  foreshown 
in  its  plan  and  its  constitution,  and  characteiized  by 
marks  which  might  lead  the  ages  of  its  fulfilment  to 
recognize,  to  acknowledge,  and  to  obey  it. 

When  David  saw  himself  seated  on  the  throne  of 
Israel,  the  master  of  a  wider  extent  of  country  than 
his  nation  had  ever  hoped  to  possess,  surrounded  by 
wealth  such  as  no  contemporary  monarch  had  amassed, 
only  one  more  thought  on  earth  wag  capable  of  caus- 
ing him  pain  or  uneasiness.  Saul  had,  like  himself, 
been  chosen  and  anointed  monarch  of  God's  people, 
and  yet  his  race  had  been  rejected  from  the  succession. 
Might  not  the  same  lot  await  his  progeny  I  It  was  to 
allay  this  anxiety  in  His  faithful  servant  that  God 
sent  the  prophet  Nathan.  (2  Kings,  vii.  16.)  He 
passed  His  solemn  word  that  after  Him  a  descendant 
should  rise,  the  duration  of  whose  reign,  and  the  ex- 
tent of  whose  dominion,  should  far  surpass  his  most 
visionary  hopes.  "  I  will  set,"  He  exclaims,  "  his  Land 
in  the  sea,  and  his  right  hand  in  the  rivers  .  .  .  and  I 
will  make  him  my  firat-born,  high  above  the  kings  of 
the  earth.  I  will  keep  my  mercy  for  him  for  ever  and 
my  covenant  faithful  to  him.    And  I  will  make  his 


I 


294 


TME   KINGDOM  OF  CHRIST. 


L 


seed  to  endure  for  evermore,  and  his  throne  as  the 
days  of  heaven."  (Ps.  Ixxxviii.  26-30.)  It  is  after 
receiving  this  divine  communication  that  we  may  sup- 
pose the  Royal  Prophet  to  have  been  elevated  in  spirit 
to  the  contemplation  of  this  glorious  period,  when  he 
heard  this  future  descendant  of  his,  already  existing  in 
a  superior  state,  exclaim,  "The  Lord  hath  said  to  me: 
Thou  art  my  son,  this  day  have  I  begotten  thee :  ask 
of  me,  and  I  will  give  thee  the  Gentiles  for  thy  inheii- 
tance,  and  the  bounds  of  the  earth  for  thy  possession" 
(Ps.  ii.  8) ;  or,  when  anticipating  the  enrapturing  vision 
of  Stephen,  he  saw  the  heavens  open  and  his  Lord,  yet 
his  son,  invited  to  sit  at  the  right  hand  of  God  until 
all  His  enemies  had  been  bowed  before  his  footstool. 

Such,  my  brethren,  was  the  glorious  prospect  which 
opened  itself  to  tlis  early  prophet;  a  kingdom  to  be 
established  by  his  great  descendant,  which  should  hold 
undivided  dominion  over  the  most  distant  parts  of  the 
earth,  unbounded  and  unchecked  by  any  of  those 
political  or  natural  limits,  which  distinguish  the  mon- 
archies of  the  earth,  or  the  species  of  the  human  race, 
and  permanent  as  the  laws  that  regulate  the  heavens. 
If  so  splendid  a  prospect  was  unfolded  to  allay  the 
domestic  anxieties  of  one  prince,  we  may  easily  iraag- 
im  what  additional  clearness  and  beauty  it  received 
when  used  as  the  instrument  of  consolation  to  a  whole 
suffering  people.    If  it  was  exhibited  with  such  sol- 
emr.  asseverations  when  all  things  augured  long  pros- 
perity to  the  house  of  David,  how  much  stronger  must 
have  been  necessary  wheu  its  utter  downfall  and  ex- 
tinction appeared  to  be  consummated.     In  fact  no 
sooner  did  idolatry  and  immorality  bring  on  the  final 


|ij>.M!>i»«i«i..K»Aiiiim)tLiii<l>[ii  1 1  vtAUMmtmmt •tmMumOi'miUima 


TUK   KINGDOM   OF  C1IKI8T. 


205 


;hrone  as  the 
)     It  ia  after 

we  may  sup* 
rated  in  spirit 
I'iod,  when  he 
dy  existing  in 
h  said  to  me : 
ten  thee :  ask 
•or  thy  inhei-i- 
ly  possession" 
pturing  vision 

his  Lord,  yet 

of  God  until 
his  footstool, 
rospect  which 
dngdom  to  be 
sh  should  hold 
at  parts  of  the 

any  of  those 
^uish  the  mon> 
le  human  race, 
3  the  heavens. 
3d  to  allay  the 
ly  easily  iraag- 
ity  it  received 
ion  to  a  whole 
with  such  sol- 
ired  long  pros- 
L  stronger  must 
iwnfall  and  ex- 
I.  In  fact  no 
Dg  on  the  final 


dissolution  of  the  Je^vish  monan'chy  and  religion,  than 
the  prophecies  of  this  new  kingdom  became  more 
marked,  and  appeared  with  ten-fold  lustre  amidst  the 
surrounding  gloom. 

When  Jeremias  sat  upon  the  ruins  of  Jerusalem,  and 
wept  over  the  mingled  ashes  of  its  palace  and  its  temple, 
he  still  considered  them  only  as  the  funeral  pile  of  a  de- 
generate dynasty  and  a  corrupted  worship,  fiom  which, 
after  a  few  yeai-s,  should  arise,  like  the  phoenix,  a 
faithful  monarch  to  restore  and  perpetuate  the  king- 
dom and  the  priesthood.  "  Behold,  the  days  come,"  ho 
exclaimed,  by  command  of  God,  "  and  I  will  raise  up  to 
David  a  just  branch:  and  a  king  shall  reign  and  be 
wise :  and  this  is  the  name  that  they  ehftU  call  him : 
The  Lord  our  just  one,"  (xxiii.  5,  6.)  Even  though 
sent  to  announce  that  if  Jechonias,  the  last  king  of 
Juda,  were  a  signet  on  God's  right  hand,  yet  He  would 
pluck  him  thence  (Jer.  xxii.  24),  and  that  there  should 
not  be  a  niau  of  his  seed  to  sit  on  the  throne  of 
David"  (30) ;  yet  he  is  ordered  to  proclaim  in  the 
name  of  the  same  God :  "  Thus,  saith  the  Lord :  If  my 
covenant  with  the  day  can  be  made  void  and  my  cov- 
enant with  the  night,  that  there  should  not  be  day 
and  night  in  their  season :  then  may,  also,  my  covenant 
with  David,  my  servant,  be  made  void :  that  he  should 
not  have  a  son  to  reign  upon  his  throne,  and  with  the 
Levites  and  priests  my  ministers."     (xxxiii.  21.) 

But  at  this  period  the  prophecies  regarding  this 
future  kingdom  undergo  a  striking  modification,  or 
rather  receive  an  additional  feature  of  the  greatest 
importance.  The  reign  of  the  Messias  now  becomes 
identified  with  the  formation  and  propagation  of  a 


^ 


THE  KINGDOM   OF  OHRIW. 

new  religion,  and  all  those  characteristics  of  nnity,  of 
ffovernraent,  of  univei-sality  of  dominion,  and  of  perpe- 
tuity of  duration,  which,  in  the  earlier  prophecy  dis- 
tinguished the  reign  of  the  descendant  of  David,  are 
transferred  to  that  religious  system,  which  it  is  shown 
to  have  denoted.  "  And  it  shall  come  to  pass  in  that 
day,"  says  Zacharias,  "  that  living  waters  shall  go  out 
from  Jerusalem"  to  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe, '  and 
the  Lord  (God)  shall  he  Ung  over  all  the  <?«»f  •'  *« 
that  day  there  shall  he  one  Lord,  and  hU  name  shall  be 

cnw And  aU  they  that  shall  he  left  of  all  nations 

shall  go  up  to  adore  the  King,  the  Lo^'d  of  Hosts,    and 
to  keep  the  feast  of  tabernacles.      (Zachar.  xiv.  8,  9, 
16  )     Here  then,  is  the  obedience  of  all  nations  to  this 
future  king,  manifestly  identified  with  their  all  wor- 
shipping  the  same  God  and  practising  the  same  re- 
ligion. .      .1    ,  .1  • 
But  it  is  in  the  evangelical  prophet  Isaias  that  this 
connection  is  most  strongly  marked:    "There  shall 
come  forth,"  he  exclaims,  "a  rod  out  of  the  root  ot 
Jesse,  and  a  flower  shall  arise  out  of  his  root;  .... 
therefore  the  earth  is  filled  with  the  knowledge  of  the 
Lord,  as  the  covering  watei-s  of  the  sea.    In  that  day 
shall  be  the  root  of  Jesse,  who  standeth  for  an  ensign 
to  the  people,  him  the  Gentiles  shall  beseech.     And 
he  shall  set  up  a  standard  to  the  nations,  and  shall 
assemble  the  fugitives  of  Israel."    (xi.)    Hence,  also, 
it  appears  that  this  new  institution  has  not  only  to 
extend  to  the  furthest  bounds  of  the  earth,  but,  m 
every  part  where  it  shall  reach  it,  has  to  be  a  con- 
Bpicuous  rallying.point  to  all.    It  is  compared  by  one 
prophet  to  the  cedar  which,  fi«t  planted  as  a  tender 


p  ■#!>  Ill  jm.  i*h»wi»><ftgw*>*."»ii'*>a»wi»i'<iii:eMH!iWBiP» 


l(ii.w.i)iWIII|W|ilN'l'*»MW>W*  I    "^W 


THE   KINGDOM   OF   CHRIST. 


SGT 


of  nnity,  of 
,nd  of  perpe- 
ropbecy,  dis- 
f  David,  are 
1  it  18  shown 
pass  iu  that 
shall  go  out 
J  globe, "  and 
lie  earth:  in 
^ame  shall  be 
yf  all  nations 
f  Hosts;'  and 
har.  xiv.  8,  9, 
lations  to  this 
their  all  wor- 
the  same  re- 

laias  that  this 
"There  shall 
f  the  root  of 
I  root;  .... 
wledge  of  the 

In  that  day 

for  an  ensign 

eseech.     And 

one,  and  shall 

Hence,  also, 
IS  not  only  to 
earth,  but,  ia 
to  be  a  con- 
npared  by  one 
ed  as  a  tender 


sapling  on  a  mountain  high  and  eminent,  on  the  high 
mountains  of  Israel,  shoots  foi-th  its  branches,  and 
bears  fruit,  and  becomes  a  great  cedar,  so  that  all 
birds  shall  dwell  under  it,  and  every  fowl  shall  make 
its  nest  under  the  shadow  of  the  branches  thereof. 
(Ezec.  xvii.  22,  23.)  It  is  compared  in  the  words  of 
my  text,  and  in  the  prophet  Micheas,  to  the  mountain 
of  the  Lord's  house,  elevated  upon  the  highest  pinna- 
cles of  mountains,  and  exalted  above  all  other  hills, 
towards  which  all  nations  shall  flow,  to  learn  the  ways 
of  God,  and  how  to  walk  in  His  paths. 

The  mysterious  veil  is  now  at  length  thrown  off: 
no  longer  disguised  under  the  figures  of  the  earthly 
monarchy,  though  still  invested  with  similar  qualities, 
this  conspicuous  and  magnificent  institution  is  depicted 
in  the  most  alluring  colore,  and  guarded  with  the  most 
splendid  promises :  within  its  pale,  harmony,  security, 
and  abundance  of  peace  shall  reside ;  its  interests  shall 
be  watched  over  and  nursed  by  kings  and  by  princes ; 
and,  constantly  increasing  in  numbers, — "  because  the 
Lord  will  lift  up  His  hand  to  the  Gentiles,  and  will 
set  up  His  standard  to  tha  people,"— it  shall,  day  after 
day,  enlarge  the  cords  of  its  tabernacle,  and  push 
further  back  the  landmarks  of  its  inheritance,  without 
any  more  fear  that  the  mercy  of  God  will  depart  from 
it,  and  the  covenant  of  His  peace  be  moved,  than  that 
His  oath  to  Noe  shall  be  made  void,  and  the  watei-s 
of  the  deluge  be  brought  back  upon  the  earth.  (Is. 
r\  jrlix.,  liv.)  Only  one  point  now  remains  to  com- 
piev  i  these  prophecies,  that  the  period  when  their  ful- 
filment was  to  commence  should  be  clearly  pointed 
out.    This  is  done  by  Dnniel,  who  closes  the  prophetic 


gp^- 


208 


THE  KINGDOM   OF  CHRIST. 


annala  upon  the  Bubject,  adding,  at  the  same  time, 
Hiich  characteristic  marks  as  should  render  his  predic- 
tions  the  epilogue  and  abridgment  of  the  preceding. 
He  tells  us,  therefore,  that  when  the  fourth  great 
empire  shall  be  falling  into  decay,  that  God  shall 
come  like  a  stone  cut  without  hands  ;  and,  filling  up 
the  space  occupied  by  the  foregoing  monarchies,  swell 
gradually  into  a  mountain  that  shall  fill  the  whole 
earth.    "  The  God  of  Heaven  shall  set  up  a  kingdom 
that   shall  never  be  destroyed;    and  His  kingdom 
shall  not  be  delivered  up  to  another  people;  and 
itself  shall  stand  forever."      (Dan.   ii.  44.)      "All 
people,"  he  says,  "tribes,   and  tongues  shall  serve 
Him :  His  power  is  an  everlasting  power  that  shall 
not  be  taken  away,  and  His  kingdom  that  shall  not 
be  destroyed."  (vii.  14.)  .  a 

After  having  thus  cureorily  reviewed  the  history  of 
prophecy  upon  this  interesting  point,  it  will  not,  I 
think,  my  brethren,  be  difficult  to  collect  from  its 
scattered  elements  a  complete  and  simple  idea  of  the 
plan  and  characteristics  of  this  kingdom  of  thp  Mes- 
sias.    It  was  to  consist,  manifestly,  of  a  religious  sys- 
tem widely  spread  over  the  whole  earth,  the  most 
extreme   points   of  which   must,  however,  be    con- 
nected and  related  by  such  principles  of  unity  and 
subordination,  as  can  entitle  the  whole  to  be  con- 
fiidered  as  forming  one  only  body  or  empire.    This 
system  which  has  to  endure,  according  to  the  words 
of  Scripture, "  until  the  sun  and  moon  be  taken  away," 
will,  at  every  moment  of  its  existence,  be  eminently 
conspicuous,  and  distinguished  by  its  constant  tenden- 
oy  to  expand. 


mUiijwWi'M 


irfMl. 


ijjli.  Ill    mim       I  TiTl  >l|'|illll|l|l>lill1i  itffll'lTCllll 


I  '•'"^m 


THE  xiNoooM  OF  cnnisT. 


200 


same  time, 
r  hia  predic- 
3  preceding, 
ourth  great 
b  God  shall 
id,  filling  up 
rchies,  swell 
[1  the  whole 
p  a  kingdom 
[is  kingdom 
people;  and 
44.)      "  All 
shall  serve 
)r  that  shall 
tat  bhall  not 

he  history  of 
t  will  not,  I 
lect  from  its 
e  idea  of  the 
I  of  thfi  Mes- 
religious  sys- 
th,  the  most 
ver,  be  con- 
of  unity  and 
e  to  be  con- 
jmpire.  This 
to  the  words 
taken  away," 
be  eminently 
istant  tenden- 


If,  therefore,  there  is  any  truth  in  the  Divine  prom- 
ises, and  if  the  spirit  of  prophecy  be  not  a  spirit  of 
falsehood  and  deceit,  we  must  feel  convinced  that  in 
this  instance  they  have  been  fulflUbd  to  the  letter ; 
so  that  in  every  age  there  must  have  existed  a  body 
satisfying  these  conditions,  and  a  body  not  only  hav- 
ing a  clear,  defined,  and  sensible  existence,  that  otheis 
may  be  able  to  join  it,  but  rendered  eminent  and  dis- 
tinguished, so  as  to  attract  the  eye,  and  win  the  at- 
tention, of  those  who  were  not  united  to  its  standard. 
And  such,  my  brethren,  has  really  been  the  case.  No 
sooner  did  the  apostles  receive  the  Divine  commission 
to  teach  all  nations^  and  to  be  the  witnesses  of  Christ's 
doctrine  "  even  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth" 
(Acts,  i.  8),  than  they  prepared  to  lay  the  foundation 
of  this  vasl  structure.  Their  jealousy  of  receiving  the 
Gentiles  into  their  communion  was  soon  removed  by 
a  declaration  from  Heaven  (Acts,  x.) ;  and  no  other 
barrier  remained  to  check  their  zeal.  To  men,  only 
twelve  in  number,  and  less  confident  of  the  Divine 
support,  the  project  might  have  appeared  chimerical, 
of  founding  a  religious  community,  whereof  the  whole 
Roman  empire  was  only  to  form  a  part.  They  would 
have  preferred  to  concentrate  their  power  and  abili- 
ties upon  one  point,  and  trust  to  time  and  opportunity 
to  spread  gradually  ou  every  side.  But,  supported  by 
the  promises  of  God,  they  feared  not  to  weaken  their 
strength  by  separation;  they  dispersed  immediately 
in  opposite  directions,  and  Spain  and  India,  Scythia 
and  Africa,  saw  rising  at  the  same  moment  the  distant, 
but  harmonising  parts  of  the  vast  system.  The  same 
doctrines,  the  same  government,  the  same  constitution, 


WttBUBtSBSSS^'^ 


800 


THX  KINUDOM  OF  OIIRIST. 


i 


the  same  form  of  worship,  linked  together  into  a  ^ole 
the  most  distinct  poiiita ;  nor  was  it  ever  imagined 
that  the  viciuaitudes  of  States,  or  the  formation  of  new 
political  boundaries,  would  ever  be  authorized,  or  able 
to  break  the  bonds  which  united  them  into  a  commoo 

empire. 

It  waa  not  long  before  the  formation  of  this  stupen- 
dous system  attracted  the  notice  of  the  whole  known 
world.    It  soon  became  a  city  built,  npon  a  mountain 
which   could  not  be  concealed;   it   soon  became  a 
beacon  towards  which  all  directed  their  course  who 
valued  the  doctrine  of  salvation ;  and  even  the  wrath 
of  those  who  could  not  bear  its  light,  only  rendered  it 
more  marked  and  conspicuous.    The  flame  of  persecu- 
tion only  added  splendor  to  its  lustre ;  the  blood  of 
its  martyred  followers  fell  like  a  fruitful  seed  upon 
the  earth,  and  the  decree  for  its  extermiuation  went 
forth  as  a  warrant  for  its  propagation.     In  the  midst 
of  all  their  sufferings,  the  most  distant  churches  cou- 
Boled   one  another,  and  corresponded  with   all  the 
sympathy   of   members   of   the   same   body.      The 
Sovereign  Pontiflfe,  in  the  concealments  of  the  cata- 
combs, received  the  reports  of  distant  provinces,  regu- 
lated   their   affairs,    or   convened   synods   for   moi-e 
weighty  consultations.      Clement  thus  ordered  the 
disturbed  Church  of  Corinth  by  his  letters;  Victor 
called  to  account  the  practice  and  discipline  of  the 
Asiatic  churches,  founded  by  St.  John  ;  Stephen  pro- 
nounced  sentence  upon  the  disputes  of  the  African 

bishops. 

Thns  was  this  new  kingdom,  within  a  few  years, 
extended  over  the  whole  world,  still  preserving  that 


\ 


Mitftii     ■■■■iwti*^- 


into  a  whole 
sr  imagined 
ition  of  nevr 
ized,  or  able 

0  a  commoa 

this  stiipen- 
rhole  known 

1  a  mountain 
n  became  a 
•  coarae  who 
jn  the  wrath 
f  rendered  it 
le  of  pereecu- 
the  blood  of 
il  seed  upoa 
liuation  went 
In  the  midst 
3h  arches  con* 
with   all  the 
body.      The 

of  the  cata- 
ovinces,  regu- 
ids   for  more 

ordered  the 
jtters;  Victor 
;ipline  of  the 

Stephen  pro- 
if  the  African 

a  few  years, 
reserving  that 


TUX  KINGDOM   OF  CHRIST. 


801 


/ 


anity  of  plan  and  of  government,  which  is  so  essen* 
tial  to  constitute  one  kingdom ;  every  day  becoming 
more  conspiouons,  till,  at  length,  its  splendor  overcame 
the  obstinacy  of  the  Koman  emperora,  and  it  planted 
the  badge  of  it«  Divine  Founder  upon  the  diadem  of 
the  world. 

Now  approached  the  trying  period,  when  it  was  to 
be  seen  whether  this  vast  system,  like  all  human  in- 
stitutions, contained  in  it  the  principles  of  dissolution, 
and  whether,  like  the  overgrown  empires  of  the  earth, 
it  would  crumble  into  pieces  by  its  own  weight.  But 
it  was  soon  discovered  that,  although  the  Roman  do- 
minion, with  which  it  was  more  than  commensurate, 
could  become  the  prey  of  anarchy,  or  devastation,  this 
had  a  principle  of  vitality,  proper  to  itself,  which 
made  it  independent  of  earthly  support.  Whatever 
revolutions  agitated  the  globe,  the  Church  of  God 
alone  remained  unmoved :  and  as  all  the  changes 
which  take  place  in  the  vast  system  of  creation  occur 
within  the  being  and  immensity  of  her  Founder,  with- 
out communicating  to  Him  the  slightest  variation,  so 
numerous  and  portentous  vicissitudes  daily  occurred 
within  her  precincts  without  modifying  her  govern- 
ment, her  doctrines,  or  her  rites. 

In  vain  did  the  north  open  its  flood-gates  of  deso- 
lation and  pour  its  deluge  of  barbarians  over  the  rich 
provinces  of  the  south.  No  sooner  did  the  torrent 
stagnate  than  it  received  the  care  of  this  universal 
benefactor;  the  scene  of  its  former  devastation,  and 
the  wilderness  which  it  had  created,  soon  began,  in 
fulfilment  of  prophecy,  "to  rejoice  and  flourish  like 
the  lily,  to  bad  forth  and  blossom,  and  rejoice  with 


I  ni.i»wni»in<h>i 


mmiiutammiiams-- 


ao9 


THK   KIWODOM   Of  fllRMT. 


joy  and  praiue."  (U.  xxxv.  1.)  Often,  even  in  tlio 
career  of  victory,  th«ir  arm  was  arrested  by  its  uieek 
interposition  ;  the  Hword  of  the  conqueror  wan  charm- 
ed into  itfl  sheath  by  the  mild  doctrines  of  Christian- 
ity, and  the  proud  head  of  the  despot  hung  abashed 
before  the  rebuke  of  its  miniHtei's.  But  they  were 
not  content  with  subduing  the  obstinate  hearts  of  their 
invaders:  they  pushed  their  spiritual  conquests  into 
the  territories  of  their  enemies. 

For  never  did  the  kingdom  of  Christ  receive  such 
trianiphaut  increase  as  during  those  ages,  commonly 
denoted  the  dark  times  of  ignorance  and  superstition. 
In  the  fifth  age,  Bt.  Paliadius  and  St  Patrick,  both 
commissioned  by  Pope  Celestine,  preached  the  faith : 
the  former  to  the  Scots,  the  second  to  the  Irish.  In 
the  sixth,  St.  Augnatin  opened  his  mission  among  our 
Anglo-Saxon  ancestor,  under  the  auspices  of  the  holy 
Pontiff  St.  Gregory.  The  blowing  century  saw  the 
Netherlands  added  to  the  Church,  through  the  minis- 
try of  St.  Willi brord,  sent  by  Pope  Sergius.  During 
the  eighth,  St.  Boniface,  under  the  direction  of  the 
second  Gregory,  gained  the  title  of  the  Apostle  of 
Germany.  In  the  ninth,  Sweden  ;  in  the  tenth,  Den- 
nmrk,  was  illumined  by  the  light  of  the  Gospel ;  the 
Hungarians,  the  Livonians,  parts  of  Tartary  and  Lith- 
uania were  the  conquests  of  the  following  centuries ; 
and,  when  the  field  for  new  conversions  seemed  thus 
exhausted,  new  worlds  in  the  eaat  and  west  were 
thrown  open,  in  order  that  the  prerogative  of  the 
Church,  to  be  ever  extending,  might  not  want  space 
whereon  to  be  exerted. 

Nor,  my  brethran,  was  this  ever-expanding  kingdom 


mmmm 


mm 


THK  KtNODOM  Of  CIIKIIIT. 


ao8 


even  in  thn 
by  its  meek 
or  wftH  charrn« 
of  ChriHtian- 
lung  ahttslu'd 
ut  they  were 
hearts  of  their 
ouquests  into 

receive  such 
568,  commonly 
I  Bupei-stition. 

Patrick,  both 
led  the  faith : 
the  Irish.  la 
on  among  our 
es  of  the  holy 
itury  saw  the 
jgh  the  rainis- 
•giu8.  During 
rection  of  the 
ie  Apostle  of 
le  tenth.  Den- 
e  Gospel;  the 
tary  and  Lith* 
ing  centuries; 
s  seetred  thus 
nd  west  were 
jgative  of  the 
3t  want  space 

iding  kingdom 


of  the  Tiord  lout  in  ol«cnrity  or  nunk  into  insignifl' 
came  during  this  iH!rio<l  of  darknenH  and  confusion. 
It  became,  on  the  contrary,  more  and  more  conNpit*. 
uuUH  and   distinguished.     Conspicuous,  from  the  aU 
moat  exclusive  learning  of  its  rulers  and  dignitaries, 
and  from  their  successful  care  to  preserve  that  spark 
of  literature  and  science  from  the  ashes  of  antiquity, 
which  could  alone  have  lighted  up  the  way  to  modern 
improvement ;  conspicuous,  by  its  care  to  smoothen 
the  rudeness  of  the  iiiues,  to  "ioften  tiiti  asperity  of 
manners,  to  improve  the  condivion  of  the  poor,  and 
plant  the  basis  of  all  those  wi»e  institutions  which  we 
now  cherish  and  admire ;   conspicuous,  Htill  more,  in 
the  holiness  and  beauty  of  character  of  so  many  who 
devoted  themselves  to  its  service ;  conspicuous,  above 
all,  by  being  the  common  link  between  distant  or  dis* 
cordant  nations,  the  common  object  of  awe  to  all  the 
evil,  and  of  consolation   o  all  the  good,  the  common 
country   to  which   all  belonged,  the  common   altar 
I'ouud  which  all  would  rally.     Honored  and  protected, 
it  never  altered  ita  constitution  nor  Vjroke  its  succes- 
sion  ;  its  voice  silenced  every  murmur  that  rose  todis* 
turb  its  harmony,  ond  its  sentence  paralyzed  every 
movement  made  to  break  its  unity.     Of  the  hundred 
sects  which  rose  before  the  fifteenth  century,  only  one 
(the  Vaudois),  and  that  an  obscure  and  lingering  rem* 
nant,  yet  survives,  in  Europe^  the  blight  of  its  anathema. 
My  l^rethren,  at  this  epoch  let  us  take  our  stand. 
We  have  seen  what  sort  of  a  system  was  required,  by 
the  ancient  prophecies,  to  fill  the  character  of  God's 
kingdom  upon  earth ;  and  you  ore  assured  that  such 
a  one  must  have  existed,  and  must  exist  for  ever,  if 


■ 


•mm 


3 


804 


rnr.  RiNnnnu  or  oHiturr. 


thfv  wer«  true.     What  alone  coul«l  hoa^t  thwwi  quail- 
ties' when  th«  ftjK«tl.'s  eMt*hlii.hfa  the  Church,  no  on« 
o«n  douht.     For  flftet- n  centurioi  after  that    pocu  I 
flnJ  only  one  rt-ligioua  nynWm  univeitally  di(T-   "d, 
which  c.uhl  he  unid  to  wear  the  featurr*  v,.,trlbut«d  to 
this  «piritunl  empire;  one  alone  conapicuoui  and  dm- 
tinguished,  for,  till  then,  it  had  not  t^ven  a  rival ;  one 
community  accused  of  bearing  too  much  the  form  of 
ftu  organised  kingdom;  one  over  spreading  the  light 
of  religion,  and  alone  diffusing  Christianity  to  the  be- 
nighted regions  of  the  earth  ;  one  alone,  in  short,  from 
which  its   more   recent   aopnratista   boait   that   they 
receive  their  niiswion  and  ordination,  which  would  be 
void  and  useU-sa  if  it  waa  not,  at  least  till  then,  the 
true  and  only  inheriUnce  of  these  prophecies  and  the 
continuation  of  their  fulfilment,     I  flud,  too,  that  ret- 
rograding  from  the  period  mentioned,  it  is  connected 
from  age  to  «ge  by  the  constant  auccessiou  of  pastors 
and  supreme  rulere,  by  a  aeries  of  councils,  canons,  and 
constitutions,  framed  for  its  government,  by  a  train  of 
writers  for  its  deftjnce  or  instruction,  by  all  those  links, 
in  fine,  which  can  pive  hUtorical  identity  to  a  moral 
and  continued  Imx./.     U\  tJ.en,  the  promises  of  God 
were  fulfilled.  It  cm '^    .>  i    this  boi':'  ulone;  and  till 
that  century  when  the  rise  of  rival  claims  to  be  the 
true  Church  of  God  involved  the  case  in  controversy, 
it  must  be  acknowledged  that  no  doubt  could  possibly 
exist  that  the  great,  the  magnificent  kingdom  of  the 
Messias  was  wholly  identified  with  the  only  religious 
system -which  was  widely  disaeminated,  wa»  eminently 
conspicuous,  or  which  spread  on  every  side  the  doc- 
trines of  Christianity. 


%  1*..-.,,.,,-^,  .,»«*>.. 


t  tbwki  quiill- 
mrch.  no  onu 
that  ptMi'u  I 
ally  diff".*'d, 

!,<,tributod  to 
aoui  and  dU* 
ji  ft  rivnl ;  one 
»  the  form  of 
[ling  ih«  light 
lity  to  the  be- 
in  sliort,  fi'om 
Mt  thftt  they 
bich  would  be 

till  then,  the 
hecies  nnd  the 
,  too,  that  ret* 
t  is  connected 
lioa  of  pnatort 
its,  canons,  and 
t,  by  a  train  of 
all  those  links, 
tity  to  a  moral 
omises  of  God 
ulone;  and  till 
aims  to  be  the 
in  controversy, 
.  could  potv.ibly 
:ingdom  of  the 
3  onl>  religious 
,  was  eminently 
f  side  the  doo* 


THE  KuroooM  or  oiiKorr. 


«05 


It  he  trup,  my  br'tthrfn,  that  w«  have  often  hpnrJ 
and  rond  of  foul  covrupti«)ns  in  prnctici*,  which  h«d 
crept  into  the  Church,  of  MJiofkinff  iramorttllti*^  whirh 
di«grftc«'d  its  ministers,  of  grcms  ptMverNions  of  Uotl's 
word  in  its  doctrim ,  during  thia  period.  But  U|H)n 
this  point  we  pay  ank  one  obvious  question.  Were 
these  such  ns  to  obliterate  fr«)m  tliis  Chinch  the  chtp» 
acteristics  of  being  the  kingdom  of  God  founded  by 
the  npostlos?  If  you  answer  in  the  ttfflrmative,  then  [ 
iiflk  what  became  of  Ilin  pronjines  that  His  king<l(>m 
was  a  kingdom  of  all  ag«tH,  which  should  never  be  de* 
stroyed ;  for  as  there  was  no  other  institution  yet  in 
eiistence  to  receive  its  reversion,  if  it  ceased  to  reraai'!, 
there,  it  ceased  equally  to  exifit. 

But  if  these  supposed  stains  only  sullied  its  purity, 
yet  did  not  void  its  title,  then  it  follows  that  at  the 
period  when  the  great  separation  of  religion  took 
place,  the  body  from  which  they  separated  was  in  as 
full  possession  of  its  claims,  to  be  the  true  kingdom  of 
the  Messins,  as  it  was  at  the  commeneemeut  of  Chris- 
tianity.  What  power  or  what  title  could  then  or  since 
transfer  this  Kingdom  to  another  people,  contrary  to 
God's  holy  promise  ?  Not  the  accusation  of  corrup- 
tions, for  it  is  proved  that  they  couhl  not  have  been 
sufficient  before,  to  deprive  it  of  its  rights.  Not  any 
authority  of  man,  for  its  title-deeds  had  been  signed 
and  sealed  by  the  spirit  of  prophecy.  Nothing,  then, 
can  since  have  despoiled  us  of  those  rights  nhich  we 
possessed  at  that  time;  and,  indeed,  when  I  look 
around  at  the  present  moment,  I  And  still  existing  all 
these  characteristics  which  were  foreshown  hy  the 
Divine  word. 

90 


\ 


800 


THK   KINODOM   OF   CnitI»T. 


! 


When,  from  thw  centre  of  our  religion,  1  cn«t  my 
view  in  any  direction,  I  behold  an  unbounded  proi^ 
pect,  independent  of  any  natural  or  political  horizon. 
Under  every  climate,  under  every  form  of  govern, 
ment,  I  discover  myriads  who  daily  recjte  the  same 
act  of  faith,  and  perform  the  same  wonj^.p  as  tnysel^ ; 
who  look  at  the  same  objects  and  institutions  witb 
reverence,  and  acknowledge  the  «ame  supreme  power, 
under  whose  more  immediate  authority  I  now  address 
you.   I  see,  in  every  part,  the  missionaries  of  religion  ad- 
vancing  each  day  further  into  unconquered  terntones. 
treading  the  dark  forests  of  the  Western  Hemisphere, 
or  disguising  themselves  in  the  populous  cities  of  the 
ends  of  the  East.-in  both  directions  daily  adding  new 
subjects  to  the  kingdom  of  the  UvA.    1  ^^^^^'^l^ 
and  extended,  yet  compact  and  coherent  sociey,  every- 
where  a  conspicuous  and  distinguished  body,  the  boaat 
of  many  powerful  monarchs,  the  pride  of  leanied  and 
eminent  persons,  and  even  where  existing  in  a  more 
humble  and  depressed  state,  still  the  object  of  umyer. 
8al  attention  and  curiosity,  from  the  splendor  of  itB 
worship,  the  uniformity  of  its  doctnnes,  and  the  con- 
stant increase  of  its  numbers.  .       A  f^ 
But  if,  instead  of  directing  my  looks  abroad  for 
these  characterizing  marks,  I  cast  an  eye  upon  the 
ground  on  which  I  tread,  I  find  still  more  spewing 
Evidence  of  their  existence  here.    When  I  trace  back 
through  every  age,  the  ecclesiastical  monuments  which 
surround  me,  and  find  them  carry  me  back  to  the 
earliest  period  of  Christian  history,-when  I  see  my- 
self kneeling  before  the  veiy  altars  which  a  Sylvester 
anointed,  and  where  a  Constantine  adored;  above  all, 


^'^ .'liaiptwt.  j*#'t  AiiijJtiimMm>iwwiiiiM!^^ 


mmmmmami 


Tine   KINGDOM   OF   CHHIST. 


Z01 


cftst  my 
ed  pros- 
horizon. 
'  govern- 
the  same 
3  myself; 
ions  with 
le  power, 
y  address 
iligion  ad- 
erritorie*, 
imisphere, 
iea  of  the 
Iding  new 
3  this  vast 
Bty,  every- 
,  the  boaat 
larned  and 
in  a  more 
of  oniyer- 
idor  of  its 
id  the  con- 
abroad  for 
I  upon  the 
e  speaking 
trace  back, 
lents  which 
ack  to  the 
n  I  see  my- 
a  Sylvester 
above  all, 


when,  standing  in  the  proudest  temple  which  the 
hands  or  imaginations  of  mau  ever  raised  to  the  Di- 
vinity, I  behold  myself  placed  between  the  tomb  of 
the  prince  of  the  Apostles  and  the  throne  of  his  pres- 
ent successor,  in  a  direct  linerl  descent,  and  can  trace 
almost  every  link  which  unites  these  two  extremes, 
through  the  aahes-that  repose  in  the  tombs,  or  beneath 
the  altars  that  surround  me,  oh  I  will  any  one  ask 
why  I  cling  with  a  feeling  of  pride  and  of  affection 
to  that  body  which  carries  me  back  to  the  foundation 
of  the  Church,  and  unites  in  unbroken  connection, 
through  ages  of  fulfilment  and  of  prophecy,  the  creed 
which  I  profess,  with  the  inspired  visions  of  earlier 
dispensations  I 

If  then/  my  brethren,  you  feel  in  these  considera' 
tions  joy  and  satisfaction,  greet  with  holy  rejoicing  the 
birth  of  your  infant  King,  who  comes  to  purchase  you 
these  blessings.  '  For  now  a  child  is  bom  to  us,  and 
a  son  is  given  to  us,  and  the  government  is  upon  his 
shoulder,  ...  his  empire  shall  be  multiplied,  and 
there  shall  be  no  end  of  peace."  (Is.  ix.  6,  7.)  Go 
in,  like  the  Magi,  and  acknowledge  Him  your  king ; 
and  if  His  humble  guise  and  His  poor  appearance 
shock  your  pride,  oh  !  remember  that  it  was  for  you 
that  He  put  them  on.  Yes,  and  remember  that, 
whatever  He  may  appear  outwardly  to  suffer,  it  ia 
nothing  compared  to  the  agony  of  His  tender  mind. 

My  brethren,  the  outline  which  I  have  traced  has 
been  but  imperfectly  filled  up.  I  might  have  added 
much  to  oMifirm  the  truths  which  I  have  placed  before 
your  minds  for  your  consolation,  or  your  serious  con- 
sideration.   But  there  are  characterbtics  and  qualities 


TWi?1»^?^'*i&^?/:^V'V.  r"^+^fcriii'5'^"'*^VTJ*ffi?*W^'J^S5^*^  yST'n 


KHii— 


808 


THE  KINGDOM   OF   OHBIBT. 


attributed  to  God's  kingdom  on  earth  which  can  he 
felt  rather  than  described,  and  which  are  intended 
more  to  attach  "  the  children  of  the  kingdom,"  than 
to  attract  the  stranger  to  it.  For,  while  the  signal 
grandeur,  extent,  and  durability  of  the  Church,  as 
clearly  foretold  in  prophecy,  form  powerful,  and  really 
inconteatiblc  evidence  to  those  without,  the  fulfilment 
of  those  predictions  which  promise  to  it  abundance  of 
peace,  unity,  internal  tranquillity,  and  security,  can 
only  be  recognized,  or  rather  felt,  by  those  who  live 
within,  as  in  their  own  house.  (Ps.  Ixvii.  7.) 

These  alone  can  enjoy  the  peace  of  conviction, 
through  the  consistency,  firmness,  and  unchangeable- 
ness  of  their  grounds  of  faith,  qualities  commuuicated 
to  every  doctiine  they  profess :  the  peace  of  unanim- 
ity ;  for  all  who  bear  the  name  of  Catholic  believe 
the  same  truths  without  dissension  or  doubt,  especially 
in  the  bosom  of  the  family ;  a  peace  of  direction,  from 
the  feeling  of  confidence  in  the  divine  guidance  gi-ant^ 
ed  by  the  Holy  spirit  to  the  Church  and  to  its  minis- 
ters, and  through  them  to  the  individual  conscience ; 
a    peace    of    reconciliation,  after  transgression  cud 
amidst  frailties,  from  the  thorough  assurance  that  God 
has  lodged  in  the  hands  of  His  priesthood  the  power 
to  forgive  sins,  and  to  restore  to  grace ;  a  peace  of  as- 
sured confidence,  arising  from  the  abundance  of  cher- 
ished graces  in  so  many  sacraments  aud  other  helps  to 
salvation,  in  the  power  of  holy  indulgences,  in  the 
community  of  merits  throughout  the  Church,  in  the 
intercession  of  angels  and  saints  in  Heaven,  and  the 
sublime  patronage  of  Mary,   ever  pure,  in  life  and 
death,  aud  in  the  suffrages  of  the  living  after  oui*  de- 


liich  can  be 
ni'H  intended 
gdom ,"  than 
e  the  signal 
Church,  as 
il,  and  really 
he  fulfilment 
ihundance  of 
security,  can 
)8e  who  live 

7.) 

f  conviction, 

nchangeable- 
[>mniuuicated 
a  of  unanim- 
holic  believe 
bt,  especially 
irection,  from 
lidance  grant- 
to  its  minis- 
1  conscience; 
igression  end 
nee  that  God 
3d  the  power 
I  peace  of  as- 
lance  of  cher- 
other  helps  to 
fences,  in  the 
Ihurch,  in  the 
aven,  and  the 
$,  in  life  and 
after  oui*  de- 


•niE   KINGDOM   OF   CHRIST. 


809 


parture :  finally,  a  peace  of  sweetest  charity,  affection, 
and  clc^est  union  with  God,  in  that  unspeakable  mys- 
tery of  grace  and  love,  in  which  Jesus  Christ  gives  us 
Himself. 

Who  can  worthily  speak,  to  those  who  have  not 
experienced  them,  of  those  treasures  of  goodness  and 
mercy  which  makes  the  inmates  of  God's  house  cling 
to  it  with  a  joyful  fidelity,  an  unshaken  security,  that 
is  inconceivable  to  those  who  are  still  outside  of  it  ? 
Let  this  our  own  enjoyment  of  such  internal  evidences, 
and  such  manifold  blessings,  be  generous,  in  our  wish 
to  see  every  one  partake  in  them.  Stretch  out  your 
hands,  O  all  ye  sons  and  daughters  of  God,  not  merely 
to  offer  bread  to  those  who  hunger  for  it,  but  to  draw 
in  each  weary  pilgrim  who  faints  on  his  way,  that 
with  you  he  may  find  rest,  peace,  shelter,  and  food  1 
So  will  you  deserve  to  stand  one  day  at  the  right  hand, 
which  rewards  fully  every  spiritual,  as  well  as  every 
corporal,  work  of  mercy. 


!BliW>' 


UMMWOWi  <ii.iii»i«i:mi»«**lBili 


iai<t» 


•  ■'* 


SERMON   XV. 

Cahtiglb  or  Canticlbh,  vill.  S.  ^ 

*•  Who  ii  thii  tluit  oomDth  up  from  the  AewH  flowing  with  delight,  iMninf 

upon  her  belorod  Y' 

Are  these  words,  of  the  most  difficult  and  most 
mystical  book  of  Scripture,  supposed  to  be  spoken  on 
earth  or  in  Heaven  ? 

If  on  earth,  then,  my  brethren,  I  can  only  imagine 
to  myself  one  who,  like  Simeon  of  old,  gifted  with  the 
knowledge  of  the  future,  and  in  saintliness  of  life,  was 
looking  out  from  the  inward  temple  of  his  own  holi- 
ness, or  from  the  visible  temple  in  which  he  habitually 
dwelt  on  earth,  to  catch  the  fii-st  glimpse  of  God's  sal- 
vation coming  to  man,  ar.d  seeing  the  earth  around 
him  appear  as  but  a  desert,  wayless  and  waterless,  in 
whfch  as  yet  there  has  been  no  path  traced  out  for  the 
sure  guidance  of  man's  steps,  in  which  no  well  has 
been  dug  at  which  his  soul  may  be  refreshed;  the 
whole  land  covered  with  the  darkness  of  death,  with 
a  night,  to  its  greatest  extent,  of  idolatry  and  crime, 
and  more  immediately  round  him  with  the  dimnes3  of 
a  formal  and  carnal  religion.  And  yet  he  knows  that 
in  the  couree  of  but  a  few  short  yeni-a  at  most,  there 
will  arise  that  Sun  of  justice  who  will  steep  and  glad- 
den with  brightness  the  whole  of  that  desert  region,  and 


1  delight,  leuiog 

It  and  most 
le  spoken  on 

jnly  imagine 
'ted  with  the 
9  of  life,  was 
lis  own  holi- 
le  habitually 
of  God's  sal- 
jarth  around 

waterless,  in 
d  out  for  the 

no  well  has 
freshed;  the 
'  death,  with 
y  and  crime, 
le  dimness  of 
e  knows  that 
t  most,  there 
!ep  and  glad* 
•t  region,  and 


1 


DEVOTION  TO   THE   BLESSED   VIROIN. 


811 


■will  make  it  glowing  and  glorious  before  God  and  men. 
But  does  it  seem  to  him  that  He  will  arise  suddenly, 
without  a  harbinger  to  announce  His  coming  ?  Will 
He  start  up  in  the  ^nllness  and  brilliancy  of  His  majesty  ? 
"Will  there  be  bf  fore  His  rising  no  dawn  to  shine  fii-at 
on  the  earth,  and  dispel  some  portion  of  the  darkness 
resting  on  its  face  ?  Will  he  not  rather  be  able  to 
say,  "Who  is  she  that  cometh  as  the  rising  dawn" 
(Cant.  vi.  9),  whose  light,  falling  tenderly  and  softly, 
is  not  a  mere  reflection  of  the  sun's  beams,  such  as  may 
be  gathered  by  the  mountain's  tops,  but  is  a  sweet 
emanation  from  it — a  part  of  that  radiance  softened, 
but  still  the  same  as  He  is  coming  to  shed  over  the 
earth  ? 

K  such  thoughts  ever  entered  into  his  mind,  if  even 
tiiey  clothed  themselves  before  him  in  living  and 
speaking  imagery,  what  must  not  have  been  the  fulfil- 
ment to  his  mind  of  that  which  he  had  before  fancied, 
on  that  day  when  his  wishes  had  to  be  accomplished, 
and  when  he  saw  that  mother  filled  with  grace,  over- 
flowing with  maternal  joy  and  with  virginal  comeliness, 
entering  from  the  wild  desert  of  this  world  into  the 
temple  of  God ;  bearing  in  her  hands  that  very  Sun 
t^  at  had  to  brighten  the  whole  earth.  Yet  not  bear- 
ing  Him  so  much  as  leaning  on  Him,  her  beloved — 
leaning  on  Him  as  her  only  stay,  her  only  streng  , 
her  only  joy ;  leaning  on  Hira,  as  St.  Augustin,  speak- 
ing of  that  venerable  old  man  himself,  says,  that 
"  while  he  seemed  to  bear  Him  in  his  arms,  in  reality, 
he  was  supported  by  that  child." 

But  were  these  words  of  my  text  perhaps  recorded 
in  that  sacred  book,  not  as  words  spoken  on  earth,  but 


.if^u.jiaMJii.gia'.Mjmjagii 


»i<h»« 


819 


ESVOnON  TO  THE   BUSSED   VinOIN. 


as  belonging  to  r  nobler  mystery  and  a  higher  place  I 
Then  looking  through  what  we  may  know,  from 
glnnpses  granted  us,  of  the  heavenly  Jerosnlem,  of 
scenes  that  may  have  occurred  there,  when  could  those 
words  have  been  more  perfectly  fulfilled  than  on  that 
day,  when  that  same  bright  creature  ascended  thither ; 
when  she  came  up  from  that  which  to  angels*  eyes 
must  be  but  a  desert  and  place  of  banishment ;  when 
she  came  not  as  other  saints  must  have  come,  but  so 
as  to  force  a  new  burst  of  exultation  from  the  lips  of 
blessed  spirits;  when  she  came  as  a  new  star  may 
break  suddenly  into  the  firmament — a  fresh  and  pre- 
cious addition  of  joy  to  that  unspeakable  bliss. 

We  may  imagine  how,  then,  the  whole  of  Heaven 
was  moved  at  seeing  her  approach,  and  how  the  angels 
and  saints  may  indeed  have  said :  "  Who  is  this  so 
wondei-fully  favored,  nov7  coming  up  from  that  desert 
below,  flowing  with  delights,  flowing  with  graces,  with 
majesty  and  beauty  ? "  If  to  others  have  been  grant- 
ed these  gifts  to  the  fulness  of  the  cup,  her  fulness  is  that 
of  the  fountain,  overflowing  ever,  and  yet  ever  at  the 
full.  And  she  is  introduced,  not  as  others  might  be, 
led  by  guardian  angel  or  patron  saint  through  the 
opening  ranks  of  that  celestial  host  to  the  throne  of 
God,  and  there,  kneeling  before  the  faithful  Rewarder 
of  His  servants,  hear  those  words  spoken :  "  Well 
done,  thou  good  and  faithful  servant,"  but  from  the 
door  of  Heaven,  leaning,  in  the  full  confidence  of 
love,  on  her  beloved,  as  a  bride  on  her  bridegroom,  as 
a  mother  may  lean  on  her  son. 

Then,  my  brethren,  do  not  these  words,  so  wonder- 
ful and  beautiful,  seem  naturally  to  apply  themselves 


igher  place  f 
know,  fi'ora 
erasnlem,  of 
I  could  those 
than  on  that 
ded  thither ; 

angels*  eyes 
raent;  when 
some,  bat  so 
1  the  lips  of 
)W  star  may 
ish  and  pre- 
bliss. 

of  Heaven 
)w  the  angels 
10  is  this  so 
I  that  desert 

graces,  with 
)  been  grant- 
'ulness  is  that 
I  ever  at  the 
rs  might  be, 
through  the 
le  throne  of 
ul  Rewarder 
:en :  "  Well 
•ut  from  the 
onfidence  of 
idegroom,  as 

,  80  wonder- 
!  themselves 


DEVOTION  TO  THE  BLE89ED  VIRGIN. 


813 


to  the  two  entrances,  when  born  first  into  this  world 
of  trial,  and  then  into  that  country  of  bliss;  and  may 
we  not  justly  consider  them  as  belonging  to  herespec- 
ially,  even  though  partially  they  may  be  applied  to 
othera?      These    words  come   naturally   before   my 
thoughts,  because  the  Church,  in  the  coui-se  of  this 
week,  will  celebrate  one  of  these  first  appearances  of 
this  chosen  saint,  of  the  most  blessed  Virgin  Mary, 
the  mother  of  the  Incarnate  Word  of  God.    For,  in 
the  course  of  this  week,  occure  the  festival  of  her 
Conception,  which  the  Church,  even  before  it  had  de- 
fined it  as  of  faith,  believed  to  be  immaculate— that  is, 
without  sin,  without  spot  or  stain— a  mystery,  won- 
derful in  itself,  but,  except  by  Catholics,  little  under- 
stood.   I  have,  therefore,  thought  that  I  could  not 
better  prepare  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  my  hear- 
ers for  the  celebration,  with  peculiar  solemnity,  of 
this  festival,  than  by  explaining  the  meaning  of  it,  and 
the  manner  in  which  it  is  underatood  and  felt  by  Cath- 
olics ;  not  by  proving  it,  not  by  entering  into  argu- 
ments which  involve  long  quotations  and  discussions, 
but  only  by  putting  it  before  you  jn  its  simplicity, 
and  endeavoring  to  make  you  feel  how  natural  this  be- 
lief is,  and  how  obvious  it  must  be  to  Chiistian  feelings. 
But  allow  me  to  begin  somewhat  remotely,  because 
a  groundwork  must  be  laid  for  my  argument.    Allow 
me,  at  first,  in  a  simple  and  obvious  mode,  to  bring  be- 
fore you  the  grounds  on  which  Catholics  celebrate,  at 
all,  the  festivals  of  the  saints,  and  what  they  mean  by 
it ;  and  thus,  led  step  by  step,  you  will  see  how  natural 
it  is  that  this  festival  should  be  to  us  one  of  the 
greatest  consolation  and  joy. 


••NMII 


■OtItl.JW 


■^■^ilWWMM^Hi 


lOii      ,iiii  I     iiiw#i 


8U 


4 


DXVOnOM  TO  Tm  BUEB8KD  viRonr. 


There  is  not  a  Bingle  claM  of  Christians  that  doei 
not  possess  what  is  well  known  hy  the  name  of  its 
calendar.  Let  it  be  a  common  almanac,  such  aH  is 
published  by  authority  in  our  country,  or  let  it  be  that 
which  is  printed  uniformly  at  the  beginning  of  every 
Prayor-book  that  contains  the  service  of  the  Chui-ch 
of  England.  That  calendar  has  probably  been  looked 
at  again  and  again  by  every  one,  yet  it  is  possible 
that  some  of  its  most  striking  features  may  not  have 
been  sufficiently  observed.  It  will  be  found  that,  in 
addition  to  certain  greater  feasts,  there  are  marked  on 
particular  days  the  names  of  pei-sons  long  ago  deceased 
-—the  names  of  pei-sons  with  nhom  individually  we 
can  have  no  sympathy — the  names  of  peraons  who 
have  not  any  special  relation  to  our  national  ideas,  or 
any  connection  with  our  history,  but  still  whose  names 
are  there ;  and  it  is  not  difficult  at  once  to  see  that 
they  are  there  because  they  have  been  men  distin- 
guished for  virtue,  for  holiness  of  life,  for  what  they 
have  done  or  suffered  for  Christ.  There  are  Saints 
Peter  and  Paul,  St.  Luke,  St.  Matthew,  St.  Austin,  St. 
Elphege,  with  other  names  scattered  over  the  paged, 
recorded  no  doubt,  for  some  particular  purpose.  Is  ' 
a  practical  purpose — one  which  is  brought  ordinarily 
into  action,  in  connection  with  the  thoughts  or  feelings 
of  the  day  ?  With  hundreds  and  thousands  most  likely 
it  is  not.  But  it  is  more  than  probable  that  many 
persons,  if  asked  why  the  names  of  those  who  are 
called  saints  are  recorded  there,  would  reply,  because 
they  were  there  many  years  ago,  when  a  piactice  ex- 
isted of  devotion  to  the  saints,  though  perhaps  it 
might  have  been  better  had  they  been  withdrawjp ; 


am 


■MMi 


^Mkk 


»• 


lonr. 

ans  that  doei 
6  name  of  its 
ac,  Buch  AH  ia 
ir  let  it  bo  that 
ning  of  every 
)f  tlie  Church 
ly  been  looked 

it  is  possible 
may  Dot  have 
[bund  that,  in 
fire  marked  on 
^  ago  deceased 
iividunlly  we 

persons  who 
onal  ideas,  or 
1  whose  uamee 
a  to  see  that 
a  men  distin* 
or  what  they 
re  are  Sainta 
H.  Austin,  St. 
er  the  paged, 
urpose.  Is  ' 
fht  ordinarily 
hts  or  feelings 
ds  most  likely 
le  that  many 
bose  who  are 
reply,  because 
a  practice  ex- 
;h  perhaps  it 
t  withdrawjp; 


DXVOTIOM   TO  TUB  BLKSftED  VIRGIN. 


815 


while  there  are  some  who  consider  this  a  part  of  what 
has  been  saved  from  the  plundered  treasures  of  the 
ancient  Church ;  who  think  that  the  record  of  those 
■ainU  is  a  constant  protest  against  forgetfulness  of  de- 
votion which  should  be  paid  to  them,  and  that  they 
are  mentioned  to  excite  the  faithful  to  a  communion 
of  some  sort,  even  with  those  whose  names  are  not 

handed  down. 

But  to  explain  the  meaning,  according  to  Catholic 
thought  and  feeling,  of  this  record  of  names,  I  will  for 
a  moment  put  that  book  aside.     We  will  close  the 
Prayer-book,  and  turn  to  the  old  family  Bible,  where 
we  find  a  calendar  at  the  beginning  containing  naraee, 
and  those  names  marked  with  particular  dates.    To 
pass  over  more  sorrowful  events,  there  has  been  regis- 
tered  the  day  on  which   each  child   of  the  family 
was  bom,  and  that  day  is  noted  as  a  sac.ed  one  in 
family  feeling  and  family  usages.     It  is  true   that 
among  those  names  there  occur  those  of  some  who  for 
a  long  time  have  not  been  seen. 

Perhaps  there  was  one  child  who,  from  early  years, 
manifesting  a  manly  and  independent  spirit,  went 
forth  to  the  regions  of  the  west,  bearing  with  him 
what  the  family  had  been  able  to  give  him  as  his  por- 
tion,  and  there,  by  industry,  and  honesty,  and  steadi- 
ness  of  life,  he  is  known  to  have  amassed  considerable 
wealth,  and  to  have  acquired  for  himself  a  high  posi- 
tion,  so  as  to  be  well  spoken  of  and  honored  by  liU 
who  know  him.  There  was  another,  who,  in  his  open- 
ing youth,  filled  with  courage  and  ardor,  went  to  the 
east  to  fight  his  countiy's  battles ;  who  has  gained  vio 
toriee  on  the  sultry  plains  of  India;  till  at  length  his 


810 


DIVOnON  TO   TIIR   BL,IC88KD    VIUOIN. 


brow  18  (  raliadowed  with  laurels,  and  bin  name  !• 
chronicled  in  the  history  of  lii^  country;  and  ho  has 
gained  not  only  honor  but  glory  among  men. 

But,  diHtant  as  they  may  be,  far  uwny  as  tiiey  Kojourn 
in  the  ea^t  or  the  west,  that  record  in  the  family  cal- 
endar in  the  bond  that  unites  them.  Does  the  mother 
forget  the  returning  birthday  of  these  her  absent  and 
renowned  children  ?  Does  she  not  make  preparation 
beforehand — does  she  not  invite  the  friends  and  rela- 
tions of  her  children  to  join  with  her  in  commemorat- 
ing that  day,  because  it  gave  birth  to  one  who  is  yet 
both  honored  and  loved  ?  And  the  feast  is  prepared, 
and  all  are  seated  round  its  table,  and  all  hearts  are 
most  joyful;  younger  children  are  there  who  have 
never  seen  their  elder  brethren,  who  had  departed 
from  home  before  they  were  even  born  ;  and  yet  they 
feel  they  have  a  right  to  be  proud  of  them  as  bro- 
thers,  and  they  feel  a  love  towards  them,  and  they 
know  them,  and  on  that  day  they  speak  of  nothing 
else.  And  the  parent  loves  to  record  incidents  of  the 
early  days  of  the  one  who  is  commemorated,  incidents 
that  give  foreshadowings  of  his  future  wisdom  or 
greatness ;  a  thousand  anecdotes  are  preserved  of  his 
words  and  of  his  actions,  and  they  are  repeated  again 
and  again,  year  after  year,  to  ears  willing  to  listen  and 
to  hearts  filled  with  love.  And  now  suppose  that  Just 
at  that  moment,  when  the  father  is  opening*  his  lips  to 
speak  in  benediction  of  that  child  that  has  given  honor 
to  his  grey  hairs,  and  when  every  eye  is  glistening 
with  joy,  and  every  ear  intent  to  hear  the  repetition 
of  his  homely  and  deorest  thoughts,  suppose  that  at 
that  moment  some  one,  with  scornful  eye  and  bit- 


i*Im  m 


Ollf. 

1  \m  nnitiA  {■ 
;  nnd  hu  has 
tn«>n. 

H  tln'y  nojouni 
\ti  family  cnl< 
es  the  mothfi* 
er  absent  ond 
e  preparation 
nds  and  rela* 
cotumeniornt- 
e  who  is  yet 
t  Ih  prepared, 
ill  hearts  are 
re  who  have 
bad  departed 
and  yet  they 
them  ao  bro- 
t;m,  and  they 
k  of  nothing 
^idents  of  the 
ted,  Incidents 
i  wisdom  or 
served  of  his 
3peaied  again 
f  to  listen  and 
pose  that  just 
ng'  his  lips  to 
3  given  honor 
is  glistening 
he  repetitioB. 
iposu  that  at 
eye  and  bit* 


DlVOTlOIf  TO  THK  BLEBSED  VIBOW. 


317 


ter  word^  were  to  say :  "  What  folly  1  what  delation ! 
Know  you  not  that  the  aflfections  of  home  cl.ng  not  to 
a  man  when  ho  has  attained  the  object  of  Ins  life  ? 
Think  you  that  they  who  are  now  at  ea^e  m  a  distant 
land   who  have  the  fulness  of  their  desires  given  them, 
who'are  now  surrounded  by  new  frieuils  and  oonnec 
tions  more  properly  their  own,  think  you  that  they 
care  any  more  for  mother  or  brethren  left  behind  in 
the  toils  and  struggles  of  hornet    No;  .t  is  folly  to 
recall  the  memory  of  such ;  they  are  gone  from  you 
forever."    Will  the  hearts  of  those  sitting  round  sym- 
pathize with  these  words  or  not  ?    No;  they  sympa. 
thize  with  the  tears  of  sorrow,  or,  more,  of  indignation, 
which  burst  from  the  mother's  eyes.    Is  it  not  the 
pride  and  joy  of  her  heart  to  think  that  on  that  same 
day  at  that  same  hour,  the  absent  ones  are  recoiling  to 
mind  what  is  being  said  at  their  dear  home,  about 
them ;    that  this   is  a  bond  of  sympathy   with  the 
younger  ones  who  have  still  to  win  their  reward ;  and 
that  each  one  is  wishing  and  praying  for  happiness 
and  joy  on  those  whom,  though  distant,  he  loves  ?    Is 
not  this  the  natural  feeling  which  any  of  you  will  en- 
tertain of  the  affections  of  this  life  1    What,  then, 
have  I  to  say  when  similar  words  are  spoken  of  those 
who  have  been  ours,  who  are  oure,  and  who  still  love 

"^^Return  now  to  that  other  record  in  which *re  those 
of  whom  I  first  spoke.  Your  Mother  the  Church  will 
tell  you:  These  are  my  children,  this  is  the  birth-day 
to  life,  to  true  and  eternal  life,  of  a  brother  of  yours, 
a  child  of  mine,  nursed  in  the  same  bosom  that  bore 
you,  fed  with  the  same  milk  which  has  given  vigor  to 


J 


aHilPip 


S18 


Dtvonow  TO  mi  itmiXD  mont. 


you,  taught  hy  tho  unme  month  fiorn  whi< Ii  you  hnve 
l.'ftrin'<l ;  thU  w.-w  a  chihl  of  njiuo,  to  whom  \m  Uttxi 
and  Fnth«T  gave  flv«  talcnti  ntitl  wnt  away  t«»  a  di». 
tant   ngicrn  from   Ilimwlf,  or  nithtr  H«  withilrovr 
Himself  from  him,  ftn«l  thow  tnlontH  hy  hiii  trading  he 
haa  doubled  iu  the  aight  of  hin  I^ird  ;  ho   hftM  ht-en  a 
merchant,   and  haa  laid  up  for  himNclf  tn-wmrea  in 
Heaven,  where  the  moth  consumea  not,  and  the  ruat 
deatroyeth  not     It  ii  a  St.  Francis,  who  gave  up  all 
for  Chriit,  that  he  might  the  more  completely  win  and 
embrace   Chriit ;    it  la  a  St.  Vincent  of  Paul,   who, 
whatever  were  the  richaa  which  the  great  ones  of  the 
world  poured  into  hia  open  arms,  lavished  them  again 
with  no  less  open  hands  on   the  poor  of  Christ,  and 
for  all  that  he  caat  away,  laid  up  ten  times  the  amount 
in  Heaven  :  this  is  the  child  far  away  from  us  whose 
birth-day  we  commemorate.  And  the  other — thiswasa 
Lmirence,  or  Stephen,  a  child  full  of  ardor  and  real 
and  the  love  of  God,  who  went  forth  to  fight  His  bat- 
ties,  who  fought,  who  conquered,  and  triumphed  ;  and 
be  now  reigns  glorious  in  Heaven,  and  his  name  is  » 
veiy  benediction  in  tho  mouths  of  all.    And  you  come 
and  tell  me  it  ia  folly  to  think  more  of  them,  that 
they  are  dead,  and  forever  gone,  whose  bones  are 
crumbled  to  dust,  whose  souls  have  forgotten   men. 
And  I  nak  in  return,  Is  it  your  opinbn  that  Heaven 
is  a  place  in  which  whatever  is  honorable  to  man, 
whatever  is  moat  precious  to  his  soul,  whatever  is  most 
beautiful  in  his  nature  after  the  corruption  of  sin  has 
defiled  it,  that  love,  in  short,  which  is  the  very  nature 
of  God,  is  a  thing  not  only  unknown  there,  but  ban- 
iahed  thenoe,  and  never  to  be  admitted  I    Tell  me, 


am. 

hich  yoti  have 
iom  )iii4  I^iitl 
ivfty  to  A  din- 

\Ul    witllllll'MT 

liifi  trnding  ha 
)   hftit  been  a 
'  trt-Mureii  in 
an<l  the  rtut 
gave  up  nil 
etely  win  and 
if  Pttul.   who, 
t  onea  of  the 
il  thoin  again 
f  Christ,  and 
iH  the  amount 
oni  us  whose 
sr — this  wA9a 
lior  and  zeal 
fight  His  bat- 
mphed ;  and 
his  name  is  a 
nd  you  come 
>f  them,  that 
ie  bones  are 
•gotten   men. 
that  Hcaveu 
iblo  to  man, 
itever  is  most 
n  of  sin  has 

I  very  nature 
ere,  but  ban- 

II  Ti-n  me, 


DITOnOlf  TO  TBI  ILIMID  VIRaiH.  819 

then  that  yo«  con^idor  Heaven  to  U  a  place  in  whl.-h 
tb«  .cml  is  to  bo  employe<l  for  eternity  in  l.x.kii.g  <>r 
diving  into  the  u.ifiithomublo  abys  of  love  which 
Ood  iH,  an.l  se..it.g  that  that  love  is  a  love  not  merely 
sleeping  and  inactive,  but  exerciiiing  itself  m  ten  thou- 
Kind  ways,  with  all  the  resources  of  infinite  power,  atid 
yet  believe  that  in  tlmt  ocean  you  must  not  love  what 

Go<l  loves.  ,       ,    , . 

Tell  me  that  you  l)elieve  Heaven  to  be  a  bK)kmg 
Into  the  face  of  Christ,  and  there  wondering  forever 
at  the  infinite  love,  and  tenderness,  and  me.cy,  and 
compassion,  and  affection  beaming  from  it,  and  thos« 
wounds  received  that  men  might  be  redeemed  at  such 
1^  price— tell  me  that  it  consists  in  the  happmess  of 
loving  your  Saviour  for  what  He  has  done  for  man, 
and  endeuvonng  as  much  as  pos«iblo  to  be  like  to 
Him;  and  that  yet  you  must  contrive  not  to  l«»ve  that 
which  is  the  very  spring  of  all  which  you  admire  in 
Him.  and  endeavor  not  to  be  like  Him  in  that  in  which 
He  is  most  amiable  to  us.     For  there  He  is  interest, 
ing  Himself  for  men,  showing  His  wounds,  and  idead- 
ing  still  by  them  with  His  heavenly  Father:  and  we 
are  to  understand  that  we  must  not  join  in  such  an 
offlce,  and  must,  not  take  delight  therein,     fell  me 
how  you  understand  Heaven  to  be  the  association  of 
holy  flouls,  united  by  a  botld  of  the  strictest  mutual 
love  forming  their  very  lif- ;  and  yet  when  one  who 
has  been  dear  to  you  on  earth  comes  into  that  same 
happy  region  in  which  you  enjoy  bliss,  it  is  to  be  un- 
derstood that  you  will  receive  him  as  a  stranger,  you 
will  know  nothing  of  him,  and  it  will  be  a  glory  to 
you  that  your  heart  is  unfettered  by  the  tiei  of  duty, 


wiWWMlviHi 


r 


820 


DEVOTION  TO   THE  BLESSED  VIROIN. 


gratitude,  or  love.  Tell  me,  have  you  accepted 
Heaven  from  God  on  these  conditions  ?  have  you  in- 
sisted that  when  your  soul  has  been  called  forth  from 
this  earth,  and  you  are  to  ascend  to  Heaven,  that  in- 
stant, that  moment,  it  is  your  intention,  for  if  it  is  God's 
will  it  ought  to  he,  to  forget  child  and  wife,  and  par- 
ents, and  to  care  no  more  for  them  ?  Oh,  if  the  pre- 
cept  of  renouncing  father  and  mother,  and  whatever 
we  love  on  earth,  for  Christ's  sake,  be  not  truly  the 
price  of  which  we  obtain  a  hundred-fold  enjoyment 
hereafter,  hard,  indeed,  would  be  the  condition,  were 
it  thus  made  the  terms,  not  for  obtaining  more,  but 
for  losing  even  that  forever  I 

And  now,  my  brethren,  returning  to  the  point  from 
which  I  started,  you  must  understand  that  there  must 
be  a  scale  of  love ;  that  if  in  Heaven  saints  have  differ- 
ent prerogatives,  that  if,  when  united  together,  there 
will  be  some  who  have  a  right  to  pray  with  a  more 
powerful  intercession,  some  who  have  peculiar  claims 
to  a  greater  love  from  us  on  earth,  who  have  still 
greater  right  to  love  us  themselves,  there  must  be  some 
rule  whereby  this  hierarchy  of  saints  is  regulated.  And 
the  rule  is  one  simple  and  obvious  enough,  to  all  who 
have  ever  considered  the  prerogatives  of  God's  saints. 
We  honor  them,  we  esteem  them,  we  love  them,  we 
believe  them  to  have  influence,  in  proportion  as  they 
are  nearer  to  God.  The  martyr  who  has  done  the 
utmost  that  man  can  do,  who,  by  giving  his  life  for 
Christ,  has  shown  the  greatest  love  that  man  can  bear, 
must  be  placed  far  above  those  who  have  not  attained 
this  privilege,  and  who  consequently  plead  not  that 
same  intensity  of  love.    The  apostles,  who  were  the 


.iiiM^lliil^iJhtf         .-< 


accepted 
I  you  in- 
)rth  from 
,  that  in- 
t  i8  God's 
and  par- 
■  the  pie- 
whatever 
truly  the 
njoyment 
iion,  were 
more,  but 

)oint  from 
liere  must 
ave  differ- 
her,  there 
th  a  more 
iar  claims 
have  still 
t  be  some 
ited.  And 
to  all  who 
id's  saints. 

them,  we 
n  as  they 

done  the 
lis  life  for 
1  can  l>ear, 
it  attained 
.  not  that 
I  were  the 


DEVOTION  TO  THE  BLESSED  VIRGIN. 


321 


■ 


immediate  foUowei-s  and  companions  of  the  Son  of  God 
in  life,  whom  He  chose  to  be  with  Ilim  iu  His  trials, 
to  whom  He  committed  His  full  power  on  earth,  who, 
in  addition  to  martyrdom  like  othei-s,  had  also  the 
glory  of  being  His  messengers  over  the  whole  world— 
they  are  naturally  placed  in  a  higher  sphere  nearer 
the  throne  of  God,  more  closely  approaching  Him, 
more  vividly  beholding  Him,  enjoying  greater  famili- 
arity and  more  intimate  union  with  the  affections  of 
their  divine  Master. 

Then  what  shall  we  say  of  her  whom  God  chose  to 
adhere  in  every  time  and  place  to  the  Redeemer  of  the 
world.  His  own  Word  incarnate ;  so  that  never,  for  a 
moment,  was  she  allowed  to  be  willingly  separated 
from  Him ;  who  alone  saw  Him  born  and  saw  Him 
die,  who  alone  heard  His  first  infant  cry,  and  heard 
also  his  last  agonizing  commendation  of  His  soul  to 
His  eternal  Father ;  who  nuraed  Him  through  infancy, 
and  attended  Him  in  His  last  houre ;  who  may  be  said 
to  have  shared  with  Him  all  His  sorrows,  all  His  trib- 
ulations; who  went  with  Him  to  Egypt,  flying  from 
the  wrath  of  Herod ;  who  nourished  Him  in  His  child- 
hood, who  hungered  with  Him,  who  bore  poverty 
with  Him  in  His  youth  at  Nazareth,  who  followed 
Him  weeping  from  city  to  city,  and  sought  Him 
through  calumny  and  reproach,  even  to  the  pereecu- 
tions  which  threatened  His  life  1    If  the  closeness  with 
which  any  one  was  privileged  to  stand  by  our  Lord  on 
earth,  is  the  criterion  of  the  place  occupied  in  Heaven, 
and  of  the  prerogatives  there  granted,  who  can  doubt 
that  she,  the  most  blessed  Virgin  Mary,  has  a  place  in 
the  court  of  her  Sou  such  as  is  granted  to  none  other  I 


M 


iW^i'fi 


rf 


822 


DEVOTION    TO   THE  BLESSED   VIROIN. 


Who  can  doabt  for  a  moment  that  when  she  was 
introduced  in  Heaven  into  the  royal  and  divine  pres- 
ence  of  that  Son,  that  same  scene  took  place  which  is 
described  as  occurring  when  Solomon's  mother  was 
announced:  "The  king  arose  to  meet  her,  and  bowed 
to  her ;  and  a  throne  was  set  for  the  king's  mother, 
and  she  sat  on  his  right  hand"  ?  (3  Kings,  ii.  19.) ' 

For,  after  all,  when  we  speak  of  her  close  connection 
with  the  Son  of  God,  as  associated  with  Him  through 
the  whole  of  His  painful  life,  all  this  is  a  consequence 
of  something  higher  still;  it  is  because  she  had  an 
interest  in  Him,  a  claim  on  Him,  which  no  other  hu- 
man  being  could  ever  establish,  and  a  claim  which  of 
all  othei-s  was  on  His  heart,  and,  through  his  heart,  on 
all  redeemed  mankind.    It  was  because  she  gave  to 
Him  all  that  he  had,  of  that  human  nature,  with  which, 
as  an  instrument,  His   Divinity  worked  on  earth; 
those  feet  that  went  forth  bearing  glad  tidings  to 
Jerusalem ;  those  powerful  hands,  which  dropped  heal- 
ing  on  the  sick  and  the  infirm,  and  restored  life  to  the 
dead ;  those  eara,  that  were  open  to  every  sigh  for 
compassion,  every  cry  for  help ;  those  eyes,  that  ever 
beamed  with  mercy  and  forgiveness  on  the  distressed 
and  the  sinner;  those  lips,  that  never  spoke  but  in 
words  full,  as  the  honeycomb,  with  wisdom  and  sweet- 
ness; that  heart  into  which  she  transfused  her  own 
blood,  and  which  He  poured  out  again  to  the  last  drop 
for  man,  as  the  price  of  his  redemption ;  that  breath, 
that  life,  which  He  gave  in  expiation  for  sin,  and  for 
the  redemption  of  us  all.    To  have  given  all  this  to 
the  Son  of  God,  to  have  made  a  present  to  mankind  of 
it  all,  sui-ely  established  in  the  eternal  counsels  of  God, 


%Mrti*^ 


!*tyy.»ywgp«« 


m  she  was 
divine  pres- 
ice  which  m 
nother  was 
and  bowed 
g's  mother, 
ii.  19.)' 

connection 
im  through 
onsequence 
}he  had  an 
o  other  hu- 
m  which  of 
is  heart,  on 
he  gave  to 
«rith  which, 

on   earth; 

tidings  to 
opped  heal- 
L  life  to  the 
:y  sigh  for 
,  that  ever 

distressed 
oke  but  in 
and  sweet- 
i  her  own 
e  last  drop 
lat  breath, 
in,  and  for 
all  this  to 
nankind  of 
els  of  God, 


DEVOTION   TO   THE   BLESSED   VIROIN. 


323 


first  a  link  between  Him  and  her,  and  then  between 
her  and  ns — ^a  link  which  cannot  be  shared  by  angel 
or  by  saint.  And  tlierefore  does  the  Church  of  God 
place  her  incomparably  above  all  created  beings ;  and 
therefore  do  the  hearts  of  the  Church's  children  yearn 
towards  her,  knowing  that  her  Son  as  she  loved  Him 
must  have  loved  her. 

But  we  have  given  her  prerogatives  enough  when 
we  make  her  enjoy  such  privileges  as  these.  Why 
give  her  more  ?  "Why  not  be  content  with  so  much  ? 
and  why  attribute  to  her  also  the  gift  of  sinlessness, 
and  believe  that  never  for  a  moment  was  she  defiled 
even  by  original  stain  1 

I  will  tell  you  why,  in  few  and  simple  words.  It 
is  because  the  Catholic  Church  exalts  to  so  much 
higher  and  so  much  diviner  a  degree  than  othera  do 
the  holiness  of  her  Sou.  "We  look  on  Him  as  so  pure, 
so  holy,  as  so  repellent  of  sin,  and  even  transgression 
of  the  slightest  nature,  that  we  cannot  admit  for  a 
moment,  or  believe,  that  He  would  permit  Himself  to 
come  in  contact  with  it.  We  cannot  believe  that  He, 
who  was  so  jealous  of  purity,  that  He  would  not  have 
His  Father  allow  Him,  although  He  might  taste  of 
death,  and  the  scourge,  and  the  buffet,  to  see  corrup- 
tion, that  He  would  not  suffer  His  lifeless  body  to 
repose  after  death  in  a  tomb  which  its  savor  could 
possibly  have  reached, — we  cannot,  I  say,  believe  He 
would  for  an  instant  permit  to  approach  His  animated 
body,  filled  with  His  Divinity,  what  to  Him  is  far 
more  hateful  than  the  coiTuption  of  death — the  de- 
filement of  sin.  And  because  we  know  Him  to  be 
the  new  Adam,  come  to  give  fresh  life  to  the  world, 


1 


nI 


824 


DEVOTION   TO   THE   BLESSED   VIROIW. 


we  believe  Him  equally  pure  with  the  firet,  and  ua- 
able  to  allow  one  drop  of  tainted  blood  to  flow  in  Hia 
veins.     Now,  in  no  way  could  the  attainder  be  cut 
off,  save  by  preventing  it  reaching  her  from  whom 
alone  His  blood  was  to  be  received.    But  further  still, 
does  it  not  seem  natural  that  if  He  loved  His  mother, 
and  must  have  loved  her  with  sucl  love  as  God  made 
man  alone  could  entertain,  He  must  have  wished  to 
bestow  on  her,  of  all  gifts,  the  one  which  she  must 
necessaiily  most  have  coveted.  .  He  made  her  pure 
and  holy,  He  made  her  detest  sin  above  any  evil  in 
existence.    But  if  a  child  had  it  in  his  power  to  be- 
stow  on  his  own  mother  any  gift  whatever,  and  knew 
there  was  one  which  she  prized  most  highly,  would  it 
not  be  that  which  h(  would  grant?    And  to  a  soul  . 
like  hers,  what  would  all  other  gifts  have  been  to 
compare  with  this,  to  be  able  to  think  that  never  was 
there  a  moment  in  her  life  when  God  had  turned 
away  His  face  from  her  as  from  a  being  hateful  and 
loathsome,  as  every  one  must  be,  with  the  stain  of 
original  sin  ?    And  He  must  also  have  bestowed  on 
her  this  very  love  of  inexpressible  purity  and  holiness, 
which  would  make  her  desire  it,  in  order  that  she 
might  be  qualified  to  be  the  mother  of  the  Holy  One, 
the  spotless  Lamb. 

It  is  not,  then,  unreasonable,  my  brethren,  to  honor 
the  saints  of  God  and  to  love  them.  It  is  not  unreasona- 
ble, in  return,  to  believe  that  they  love  us ;  and  that  love 
not  merely  an  abstract  or  passive  affection,  but,  like 
God's  love  for  man,  an  active  love.  It  is  not  unreasona- 
ble  especially  to  believe,  that  the  blessed  Mother  of 
God  has  privileges  and  prerogatives  which  are  be- 


«*> 


DKVOTIOTSr   TO  THE   BLESSED   VIROIIT. 


825 


fc,  and  un- 
low  in  His 
er  be  cut 
•om  whom 
irther  still, 
[is  mother, 
God  made 
wished  to 
she  must 
)  her  pure 
any  evil  in 
ower  to  be- 
,  and  knew 
y,  would  it 
id  to  a  soul  ' 
ve  been  to 
t  never  was 
bad  turned 
hateful  and 
he  stain  of 
)estowed  on 
ind  holiness, 
er  that  she 
5  Holy  One, 

en,  to  honor 
>t  unreasona- 
md  that  love 
on,  but,  like 
»t  unreasona- 
d  Mother  of 
hich  are  be- 


,, 


stowed  on  none  other  of  the  saints  of  God,  and  conse- 
quently that  she  has  greater  power  with  her  Son,  and 
higher  claims  on  our  hearts  and  affections.     And  it  is 
not  wonderful  that  these  thoughts,  which  aflfection  en- 
genders, should  lead  us  by  a  straighter  flight  than  the 
more  circuitous  road  which  theologians  must  tread,  to 
arrive  at  once  at  the  belief  in  that  mystery  so  dear  to 
the  Catholic,  of  the  spotlessness  of  the  ever-blessed 
Mother  of  God,  even  from  the  beginning  of  her  exis- 
tence upon  earth.     One  word  more  concerning  her,  and 
I  will  conclude.  It  is  true  that  our  blessed  Redeemer  is 
the  real  Sun  of  justice  who  alone  can  shine  on  our  hearts 
with  that  saving  power  and  grace,  through  which  alone 
we  can  attain  our  reward ;  and  it  ia  only  He,  that  bril- 
liant Sun  in  the  firmament  of  Heaven  and  the  Church, 
who  can  enlighten  our  faith,  warm  our  hope,  enkindle 
our  charity ;  for  from  Him  alone  comes  grace,  from  Him 
alone  is  light,  from  Him  is  life.  But  tell  me,  is  it  less  that 
same  Sun,  or  is  He  less  to  you  when,  instead  of  being 
viewed  directly  in  all  His  dazzling  briliancy,  He  comes 
on  you  mellowed,  as  it  were,  through  the  storied  win- 
dow, bearing,  imprinted  on  His  own  rays,  the  eflBgies 
of  saints  and  angels  who  would  have  no  existence 
there  but  for  His  light,  for  all  was  dark,  shapeless, 
colorless,  until  His  rays  came ;  and  then  on  a  sudden 
He  gave  them  light  and  color,  and  He  shaped  them 
into  form,  and  He  softened  His  own  radiance  as  He 
shone  through  them ;  but  without  Him  they  had  no 
existence. 

And  so  the  Church  contemplates,  through  the 
saints,  the  glory  of  the  Son  of  God.  In  their  own 
nature  they  were  sinful,  frail,  and  helpless ;  but  they 


a26 


DEVOnoW   TO    niB  BLESSED   VlROm. 


have  be«»ri  the  me^iiim  through  which  the  raja  of 
divine  j:-  uve  pa««ed ;  and  as  they  so  shone,  they 
have  ha.  eir  brilliancy  made  ♦^adorable.  For  our 
Lord's  bright  virtues  thus  appear  not  only  admirable, 
but  in  some  respect  imitable,  because  we  can  copy 
those  of  the  saints  as  steps  to  conduct  us  to  the  life  of 
Christ.  And  is  there  not  one  whom  all  should  be 
glad  to  see  the  model  especially  of  Christian  women  ? 
Catholic  mothers,  will  you  leave  your  children  to  pick 
up  the  type  of  their  sex  from  the  novel  or  the  ro- 
mance of  the  day  ?  Will  you  have  them  form  their 
characters,  either  upon  that  stern  and  cold  virtue 
which  the  world  admires,  or  upon  that  soft  and  mise- 
rable effeminacy  with  which  it  depicts  the  milder 
mind?  Will  you  leave  them  to  model  themselves 
on  what  is  considered  the  noble  form  of  character  in 
their  sex,  the  masculine  heroines  of  ancient  or  modern 
timej,  who  forgot  the  gentler  and  softer  virtues  be- 
longing to  their  nature,  to  cultivate,  rather,  intellect, 
and  displ.^y  boldness  even  in  religious  speculation? 
Or  do  you  wish  to  find  them  classed  with  those  who 
have  passed  with  cold  mediocrity  through  the  trials 
of  life ;  amiable,  perhaps,  but  possessed  of  barely  or- 
dinary virtues  ? 

Will  you,  I  ask,  leave  them  to  follow  such  wretched 
models,  when  you  have  before  you  that  type  of  female 
excellence,  which  from  the  time  of  St.  Ambrose,  was 
placed  before  the  youthful  maiden ;  as  that  on  which 
she  must  study  to  form  herself,  that  in  which  there  is 
found  all  that  is  tender  and  yet  all  that  is  firm ;  and 
which,  from  the  humble  virgin  refusing  the  highest  of 
honors,  brings  before  us,  finally,  the  matron  enduring 


DEVOTION   TO  THE  BLESSED   VIROIIT. 


827 


the  rays  of 
shone,  they 
>.    For  our 

admirable, 
)  can  copy 
[)  the  life  of 

should  be 
an  women  ? 
ren  to  pick 

or  the  ro- 

forra  their 
cold  virtue 
t  and  mise- 
the  milder 

themselves 
jharacter  in 
;  or  modern 
virtues  be- 
jr,  intellect, 
peculation  ? 
I  those  who 
I  the  trials 
r  barely  or* 

ih  wretched 
)e  of  female 
nbrose,  was 
%t  on  which 
lich  there  is 
)  firm;  and 
B  highest  of 
m  enduring 


anguish  and  agony  such  as  falls  to  the  lot  of  no  other 
woman  on  earth  2  Can  you,  for  a  moment,  hesitate  to 
perceive,  how  useful,  how  salutary,  how  saving  it  would 
be,  if  you  could  make  this  the  example  that  is  to  be 
imitated  in  every  family,  and  thus  becomo  at  length 
the  recognized  type  of  all  that  is  great  and  at  the  same 
time  gracious  ? 

Then,  do  not  listen  to  words  that  you  may  hear 
spoken  almost  scornfully  of  her,  whom  it  is  impossible 
to  think  on  without  love.    Do  not  allow  yourselves, 
because  it  may  be  thought  expedient  to  repel  Catholic 
doctrine  from  you,  to  hear  that  which  is  most  beauti- 
ful  in  the  whole  history  of  Christianity,  saving  Him 
only  who  has  no  paragon,  I  will  not  merely  say  with 
contempt,  but  even  with  coldness  and  indifference. 
On  the  contraiy,  fling  away  with  indignation  such 
suggestions  from  you,  and  look  at  her  character,  her 
history,  her  prerogatives,  with  the  simple  feehngs  of 
nature,  if  not  with  the  eyes  of  Catholic  faith,  and  I  am 
sure  that  there  is  not  one  of  you  who  will  not  be  ready 
to  admit,  that  it  should  be  a  motive  of  virtuous  pride 
to  be  able  to  say,  that  this  has  been  her  own  model, 
and  the  one  which  she  has  proposed  to  her  children 
for  imitation.    And  I  am  sure  that  such  a  one  would 
come  at  l^gth  to  admit  the  whole  of  what  I  have 
said,  the  whole  of  what  the  Catholic  Church  teaches 
i-especting  the  blessed  and  immaculate  Mother  of  God ; 
and  that  in  the  end,  she  would  find  and  proclaim  that 
this  copying  of  so  sublime,  yet  so  winning  an  exam- 
pie,  had  made  her  path  smooth  and  easy,  nay,  that  it 
had  made  it  the  sweetest,  and  at  the  same  time,  the 
most  safe,  to  eternal  life. 


■ir 


SERMON  XVI. 
^tftt^rntion  at  tbe  ^UmA  f  irgiu. 

LvKK,  xl.  27. 

"  And  it  cuno  to  pas,  u  He  spoke  theee  thingi,  that  a  certain  woman 
from  the  crowd,  lifting  up  hor  voice,  laid  to  Him :  Bleaied  la  the  womb 
that  bore  Thee,  and  the  brcaata  that  gave  Thee  auck." 

The  iocidcnt  thus  recorded  in  the  Gospel  which  has 
just  been  sung,*  is  contained  in  f«w  words,  but  is, 
nevertheless,  full  of  consoling  instruction.  The  wo- 
man who  so  fearlessly  raises  her  voice  above  the  crowd 
had  seen  Jesus  perform  many  works  of  mighty  power; 
she  has  heard  the  strong  pereuasiveness  wherewith 
He  delivered  instructions  of  sublimest  import ;  she 
had  noted,  too,  the  commanding  grace,  and  dignity, 
and  majesty  which  clothed  His  person,  and  ennobled 
all  His  actions.  And  yet,  she  exclaimed  not,  "  blessed 
are  those  hands  wherein  God  hath  placed  the  staff  of 
His  power," — nor  "  the  lips  which  He  hath  overspread 
with  such  sweetness," — nor  "the  heart  wherein  He 
hath  folded  up  so  much  counsel."  But,  by  a  transi- 
tion most  natural,  she  considered  how  lovely  must 
have  been  the  flower  which  produced  so  aweet  a  fruit, 
how  hallowed  and  pure  the  body  which  conceived,  and 
bore,  and  nourished,  so  holy  and  privileged  a  being : 
herself,  perhaps,  a  mother,  she  calculated  the  joys  of 

*  Qospel  of  the  Votive  Mais  of  tho  Bteeaed  Virgin. 


I. 


certain  womtn 
ed  la  the  womb 


1  which  has 
rds,  but  is, 
The  wo- 
B  the  crowd 
hty  power; 
wherewith 
iport ;  she 
lid  dignity, 
d  ennobled 
>t,  "  blessed 
ihe  staff  of 
overspread 
rherein  He 
ly  a  transi- 
Dvely  must 
reet  a  fruit, 
ceived,  and 
d  a  being: 
the  joys  of 

rgln. 


VENERATION   OF  THE   DLE8SED   VmOIN. 


959 


hv\\  to  whom  alone  it  had  been  given  to  nurse  and  ca- 
ress Him  ill  infancy,  to  enjoy  His  company,  and  com- 
mand Him  in  youth,  and  for  whom  alone— however 
the  waters  of  His  charity  and  graciousness  might  flow 
abroad— was  reserved  in  His  breast,  that  sealed  foun- 
tain of  man's  affections,  filial  duty,  respect,  and  love. 
And  hence,  borne  away  by  an  amiable  enthusiasm, 
and  nothing  fearing  that  by  commending  and  blessing 
such  a  mother,  she  could  offend  such  a  Son,  she  raised 
her  voice,  almost  unwittingly,  and  exclaimed :  "  Bless- 
ed is  the  womb  that  bore  Thee,  and  the  breasts  that^ 
gave  Thee  suck.  • 

Nor  was  there  any  reproof  of  these  sentiments  im- 
plied in  His  answer  :  "  Yea,  rather,"  or,  as  it  snight 
have  been,  perhaps,  better  rendered,  "  Yea,  likewise 
blessed  are  they  who  hear  the  word  of  God  and  keep 
it."  For,  in  like  manner,  when  Thomas  upon  touch- 
ing our  Saviour's  wounds  proclaimed  Him  his  Lord 
and  God,  our  blessed  Redeemer  replied  that  they  were 
blessed  who  had  not  seen,  and  yet  believed  (John,  xx- 
29) ;  and  did  not  surely  thereby  signify,  that  we,  who 
believe  darkly,  as  striving  against  our  senses,  and  adore 
at  a  distance,  as  through  a  thick  veil,  have  a  more 
blessed  lot  than  those  chosen  few  who  were  allowed 
to  hear  His  voice,  and  touch  His  sacred  body,  and  kiss 
His  open  wounds.  But  He  wished  to  teach  the  apos- 
tles and  us  that,  as  all  could  not  aspire  to  that  extra- 
ordinary happiness,  it  behoved  us  to  be  content  with 
that  measure  which  it  pleases  God  to  grant  us,  end 
thus  He  in  part  corrected  Thomas  for  refusing  to  be 
contented  with  less  blessed  evidence  of  His  being 
risen  than  he  himself  chose  to  demand.    In  like  man- 


830 


VKirXRATIUN   OF   T1IK    BLEKHKD   VIHOIlf. 


ner  did  lie  turn  the  pious  woman  in  the  Gospel,  from 
the  contemplation  of  n  nublime  and  unattainable  bent* 
itude,  for  which  none  might  ever  long,  to  thut  ihore 
which  HJie  might  hope  to  reach,  ond  which  was  projwr 
for  her  condition — the  blessing  of  being  a  hearer  and 
doer  of  Ilia  holy  word.  Thus  here,  tut  in  the  cose 
of  Thomas,  the  pointing  out  a  happincMS  more  within 
the  reach  of  men,  than  that  which  was  alluded  to, 
does  not  impair,  but  rather  enhances,  the  beatitude  of 
the  higher  state,  by  pronouncing  it  beyond  hope. 

We  then,  my  brethren,  os  Venerable  Bede  exhorteth 
us,  will  raise  our  voices,  with  this  holy  woman,  above 
the  crowd,  ond  proclaim  as  she  did,  blessed  the  womb 
that  bore  Jesus  made  man,  and  the  breasts  that  gave 
Him  suck,  an  infant  for  our  sakes ;  and  that  we  may 
do  so  with  greater  assurance,  we  will  consider  the 
right  she  of  whom  we  treat  hath  to  our  gratitude  and 
veneration.  But  bo  for  from  allowing  those  feelings 
to  prejudice  our  better  interests,  we  will,  on  the  con- 
trary, see  how  highly  beneficial  they  may  be  rendered 
to  our  eternal  welfare.  Thus  shall  we  first  imitate 
the  pious  example  proposed  to  us  by  the  Gospel,  and 
then  profit  by  the  lessons  drawn  from  it  by  our  heav- 
enly Teacher. 

It  is  not  ray  intention,  my  brethren,  to  enter  into 
any  controvei-sy,  for  the  purpose  of  proving  to  you, 
from  sacred  authority  or  from  human  reason,  that  it 
is  just  and  proper  in  us  to  honor  and  venerate  the 
caints  of  God,  and  above  them  all  the  Queen  of  the 
Saints.  For  I  feel  that  here  I  stand  in  the  midst  of 
my  brethren,  of  those  who  come  to  the  house  of  God, 
in  full  conviction  of  all  the  truths  therein  taught,  and 


■MMi 


>IK. 


VKNERATIOM   OF  Till   BLBWICD  VIROIW. 


3^1 


lOHpel,  from 
ilniible  l)«Ht« 
tliut  share 
I  wfts  proper 
,  benr«r  and 
in  the  cAse 
nore  within 
alluded  to, 
beatitude  of 
'  hope, 
le  exhorteth 
)mau,  above 
d  the  womb 
tfl  that  gave 
hat  we  may 
sonoider  the 
ratitude  and 
J08e  feelings 
on  the  con- 
be  rendered 
first  imitate 
Gospel,  and 
)y  our  heav- 

)  enter  into 
ing  to  you, 
inson,  that  it 
renerate  the 
ueen  of  the 
he  raidat  of 
DQse  of  God, 
taught,  and 


only  anxious  to  improve  in  the  practiee  of  all  they  in- 
culcat«».     And  ihhmI  I  ttill  NUch  a«  you,  that  the  con- 
tenjplation  of  the  glory  of  the  sainto,  and  of  their 
ilignity   and   joy,   so    far    from    drawing    awoy   our 
thoughts  and  hopes  from  (Jod,  doth  rather  raise  them 
up  more  gently  from  the  earth,  to  fly  towards  Ilim  ? 
For  one  who  sh.^uhl  wish  to  contemplate  the  beauty 
of  a  glorious  summer'n  day,  would  not  go  forth  and 
boldly  raise  his  eyes,  and  fix  them  upon  the  burning 
luminary,  from  which  all  its  radiance  and  warmth 
proceed,  well  knowing  that  he  would  thereby  only 
dazzle  and  afflict  his  sight;  but  rather,  casting  them 
lower,  he  would  let  them  wander  over  the  mildor 
diversity  of  Nature's  face.     Or,  if  possible,  he  would 
rest  them  upon  a  well-tilled  garden  ;  and,  as  he  there 
ol>served  the  rich  variety  of  shape,  and   hue,  and 
fragrance,  and  loveliness,  in  the  flowers  that  surrounded 
him,  remembering  that  all  these  divers  forms  and  quali- 
ties   are   but  the  reflection  and  production  of  that 
source  of  light  which   brings   them   into   being,  he 
v^ould  thereby  conceive  a  sweeter  and  livelier  idea  of 
that  day's  splendor,  and  of  that  luminary's  benefits, 
than  if  he  had  at  once  gn'.ed  upon  his  brightness. 
And  in  like  manner  when  we  wish  to  meditate  upon 
the  glories  of  God's  eternal  day,  we  will  not  at  once 
dart  our  glance  on  that  Father  of  Lights,  who  dwelleth 
in  light  inaccessible,  but  rather  will  pause  to  meditate 
upon  the  beauties  of  his  heavenly  Eden ;  and  whea 
we  contemplate   assembled   together  the   unstained 
virgin,  and  the  empurpled  martyr,  and  the  triumphant 
apostle,  and  all  the  other  orders  of  heavenly  beings, 
with  one  rising  above  the  rest,  and  uniting  in  herself 


889 


VKNtriATION   or  nif!    DLKMKO   VIROIIf. 


thn  pxrpllcnclos  of  tlii'tn  nil ;  nnd  when,  morcovflr,  we 
rcnu'iitlici'  tlint  all  tlicnc  clmrnin  aro  hut  oriuuintions 
anil  roflootions  (»f  llin  <'fl'iil^'«'nr(«,  w«  hlmll  nN«ur(Mlly 
form  ft  trufT  and  inoro  cotiHoliug  e.Htitnnto  of  Iliii  hcftuty 
nnd  hen«'fit'<'iic«»,  niid  mighty  power,  than  if  we  hud 
ftwed  nnd  ovtM\vhrlni«ul  our  minds  by  nternly  gnzing 
upon  ilia  Hplcntlor.  TheN,  too,  aro  wo  more  owiily  led 
to  reflect,  that  wo  likev  lao  flre  now  what  these  once 
were,  8«'«HUiiigp,  ho  to  speak,  in  the  numery  of  the 
heavenly  husbandman,  ilestined,  as  soon  as  we  shall 
reach  our  becoming  growth,  to  be  tranaplanted  into 
that  garden  of  His  d<:light. 

But,  turning  now  to  her,  with  whoso  higher  dignity 
I  wish  principally  to  ennoble  my  discourse,  it  must  bo 
noted  that  the  woman  in  my  text  was  not  the  first 
that  pronounced  her  "  blessed."  The  fli-st  was  Gabriel 
the  archangel,  who  saluted  her  as  "blessed  among 
women"  (Luke,  i.  28) ;  ihe  second  was  Elizabeth,  filled, 
as  the  sacred  text  says,  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  re- 
peated the  angel's  words  (42);  the  third  was  Mary 
herself,  who  exclaimed  that  thenceforth  all  generations 
should  call  her  blessed.  (48.)  Now,  these  words 
have  the  form  of  prophecy ;  and  that  prophecy  must 
have  been  fulfilled.  But  by  whom  ?  Not,  surely,  by 
those  who,  in  discouwe,  never  bestow  upon  her  that 
title ;  not  by  those  who  never  make  her  the  topic  of 
their  religious  instruction,  unless  it  be  to  reprehend 
and  reprobate  the  only  honor  and  veneration  bestowed 
upon  her  on  earth ;  not  by  those  into  the  scheme  of 
whose  theoolgy  the  consideration  of  her  blessedness 
never  enters — no,  nor  even  her  name,  unless  it  be  to 
denounce  those  as  superstitious  or  something  worse, 


Ollf. 

♦'iiuumtions 
ill  nMHurc'dly 
f  His  hcftiity 
I  if  we  hud 
ernly  gazing 
iro  oanily  led 
b  these  once 
n»ery  of  the 

AS  we  nhall 
planted  into 

ghor  dignity 
e,  it  must  bo 
not  the  first 
wna  Gabriel 
38sed  among 
labeth,  filled, 
best,  who  re- 
d  was  Mary 
I  generations 
these  words 
ophecy  must 
»t,  surely,  by 
)on  her  that 
the  topic  of 
to  reprehend 
Ion  bestowed 
le  scheme  of 
•  blessedness 
less  it  be  to 
ithiug  worse, 


ATION   or  TlfR   HLfWIKD   VtROTN. 


nsB 


who  nd(h«'«M  Imr  a^  did  an  nrt'lmtig«»l,  and  on©  inspired 
by  th«  Holy  Ghoat,  of  whom  it  is  said,  that  she 
walked  in  nil  tiie  conunandme'iitN  of  the  Lord  without 
blame.     (6.) 

It  has,  indeed,  b<>en  urged  by  fiomo,  to  excuse  their 
ftvcrsion  to  showing  respect  to  Maiy,  that  our  Haviotir 
Himself,  through  life,  treated  IHh  Mother  with  marked 
indifference;  that  lie  answered  her  even  harshly  at 
the  weddiiig  feast  of  Cana  (John,  ii.  4),*  and  tliat  He 
refused  to  recognize  her,  when  told  that  she  was  ask- 
ing for  Uim  without.     (Matt.  xii.  48.)     There  have 
no^  been  wanting  men  who  have  seriously  urged  these 
instances,  in  their  writings,  as  a  key  to  the  feelings  of 
our  divine  Redeemer  towards  his  blessed  Mother;  and 
have  even  assumed  that  He  thereby  meant  to  give  us 
a  model  and  a  rule  of  our  feelings  and  bearing  towards 
her.     Now  I  will  even  allow  that  these  circumstances 
ore  usually   fairly   represented,   and    that   our  Lord 
so  conducted  Himself  towards  our  bleKsed  lady,  as  to 
show  in  the  strongest  manner  that,  when  once  He  had 
entered  on  His  sacred  ministry.  He  had  snapped  com- 
pletely in  sunder  the  bonds  of  the  flesh,  and  allowed 
none,  however  dear  to  Him,  further  to  interfere  with 
His  designs ;  and  that  He  consequently  did  appear,  on 
some  occasions,  to  check  her  eager  love.    Even  allow 
all  this,  and  does  it  follow  that  we  are  to  select  these 
instances  as  the  rule  of  our  conduct  and  speech  ? 

Our  Redeemer  often  reproached  His  apostles  as 
men  of  little  faith.  (Matt.  viii.  26;  xiv.  81.)  Are 
tvCf  therefore,  to  forget  all  their  labora  in  our  behalf, 

•  On  thia  pMM««  M*  tba  DuUt'n  Rnina,  April,  1887,  p.  4M. 


:% 
■  "^ 
Kc^ 


••a»> 


VENKUATION   OF   THE   BLESSED    VIROIN. 


884 


i 


and  their  suflFeiings  for  Christ,  nnd  the  dignity  of  their 
apostleship,  and  their  sealing  of  the  faith  with  their 
blood,  and  judge  of  their  Master's  disposition  towards 
them  only  from  His  words  of  strong  reproof?  He 
addressed  Peter  in  these  hai*8h  terms :  "  Get  behind 
uie,  Satan ;  thou  art  a  scandal  to  me,  because  thou 
savorest  not  the  things  that  are  of  God."  (Matt.  xvi. 
23.)  And  will  any  one  thence  reason,  that  we  should 
overlook  his  warmer  zeal  and  thrice-recorded  love, 
and  his  confession  of  our  Lord's  divinity,  and  the  pas- 
toral charge  and  keys  of  the  kingdom  delivered  to 
him,  only  to  dwell  upon  the  sterner  moments  of  severe 
correction  2  And  to  John,  too.  He  said,  turning  round 
and  rebuking:  "Ye  know  not  of  what  spirit  ye  are." 
(Luke,  ix.  55.)  Must  we  then  not  heed  that  he  was 
the  beloved  disciple  that  leaned  upon  his  Master's 
bosom ;  who  stood  alotfe  of  the  twelve  on  Golgotha 
by  the  cruel  tree ;  to  whom,  beyond  others,  were  re- 
vealed the  mysteries  of  the  future ;  and  who  closed 
the  inspired  volume  by  the  longing  aspirations  of  love 
divine;  but  feel  and  speak  of  him  as  one  whom  Jesus 
reprimanded  and  strongly  rebuked,  and  for  whom, 
consequently.  He  wished  us  never  to  feel  or  express 
reverence,  gratitude,  or  love  ? 

And  if  not,  then  let  not  a  similar  argument  be  im- 
piously or  ignorantly  urged  with  regard  to  Mary ;  and 
even  supposing,  what  God  forbid  that  I  should  ever 
allow,  that  her  dear  Son  should  sometimes  have  seemed 
to  act  towards  her  with  a  reserve  bordering  on  se- 
verity, should  not  we  rather  remember  that  it  was  she 
who  bore  for  nino  months  in  her  womb  the  Saviour  of 
our  souls,  and  who  suckled  Him  with  her  milk  ;  that 


pf 


UN. 


884 


nity  of  their 
1  with  their 
;ion  towards 
jproof?  He 
Get  behind 
ecause  thou 

(Matt.  xvi. 
it  we  should 
5orded  love, 
ind  the  pas- 
delivered  to 
nts  of  severe 
irning  round 
>irit  ye  are." 
that  he  was 
his  Master's 
>n  Golgotha 
ers,  were  re- 

who  closed 
tions  of  love 
whom  JesQS 
i  for  whom, 
1  or  express 

nent  be  im- 
)  Mary ;  and 
should  ever 
have  seemed 
eriog  on  se- 
Eit  it  was  she 
le  Saviour  of 
>  milk ;  that 


VENERATION   OF  THE   BLESSED   VIRGIN. 


835 


she  carried  Him  in  her  arms  through  the  desert  to 
save  Him  from  His  enemies ;  that  she  had  loving  care 
of  Him  for  many  years  at  Nazareth ;  that  she  suffered 
three  years  of  racking  anxiety  on  His  account  while 
the  Jews  sought  His  life ;  and  that  she  endured  more 
for  Him  than  any  other  mortal,  standing  to  gaze  on 
His  death-hour,  beneath  the  shadow  of  His  bruised 
limbs  and  thorny  crown  ?  And  oh  1  did  not  those  last 
words,  when,  with  His  failing  breath,  He  proclaimed 
her  His  Mother,  and  commended  her  to  John,  com- 
pensate for  all  past  severity  in  Urn  demeanor,  if  such 
had  existed,  or  such  had  been  possible,  in  Him  who 
came  from  Heaven  to  be  our  model,  as  in  every  other 
virtue,  so  in  the  firet  commandment  which,  according 
to  St.  Paul,  has  a  promise  (Ephes.  vi.  2),  that  of  hon- 
oring our  parents  ? 

But  now  that  Jesus  has  ascended  to  the  Father,  and 
has  dried  up  every  tear  from  the  eyes  of  His  saints, 
can  we  suppose  that  His  sentiments  have  changed  ia 
her  regard?  For,  my  brethren,  when  you  think  of 
Jesus  sitting  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  undoubtedly 
you  love  to  think  of  Him  as  clothed  with  all  that  can 
render  our  human  nature  amiable:  and  as  He  has 
borne  with  Him  our  flesh,  and  the  very  wounds  that 
pierced  it,  so  you  cannot  doubt  but  He  has  raised  so 
high  with  Him  the  gentle  and  sweet  affections  of  the 
heart.  We  delight  to  think  that  whom  He  loved  on 
earth.  He  loveth  also  in  Heaven ;  to  whom  He  showed 
friendship  here  below.  He  denieth  it  not  in  His  own 
kingdom;  with  whom  He  contracted  obligations  in 
the  days  of  His  flesh,  He  holds  them  good,  and  repays 
them  in  this  season  of  His  glory.    The  more  we  can 


flSft'  VENERATION  OF   THE  BLESSED   VHIQIN.     , 

assimilate  Him  in  our  minds  to  what  He  was  here  be- 
low the  more  we  can  divest  Hira  of  the  brightness  of 
His'glorified  state,  the  more  easily  and  closely  we  can 
unite  ourselves  to  Him  in  pure  aud  simple  affection. 
Shall  we  then  see  Him  thus  preserving  every  other 
virtuous  and  amiable  feeling,  and  making  chanty 
—that  is,  love— the  all-absorbing  essence  of  bliss  m 
Heaven,  and  consequently  Himself  a  fathomless  abyss 
thereof,  and  yet  bring  ourselves  even  remotely  to 
suspect  that  He  has  despoiled  Himself  of  that  feehng 
which  Nature  plants  the  first,  and  never  again  up- 
roots— the  bud  at  once  and  the  firmest  stem  of  our 
affections;  to  suppose  that  He  still  shows  Himself  a 
generous  benefactor,  a  kind  master,  and  a  faithful 
friend,  and  yet  wishes  not  to  be  considered  as  display- 
ing the  feelings  of  an  affectionate  son?    Away  from 
us  such  cruel  thoughts  I 

Then,  on  the  other  hand,  can  we  believe  Him  such, 
and  yet  imagine  that  He  wishes  not  others  to  love 
and  respect,  and  that,  too,  with  outward  demonstra- 
tions,  her  whom  He  himself  loves  and  cherishes  ?  For 
what  said  king  Assuerus,  when  he  wished  to  express 
his  esteem  for  Mardochai,  who  had  saved  his  life? 
Why,  he  ordered  him  to  be  mounteu  on  his  best 
horse,  clothed  in  royal  robes,  and  wearing  the  diadem, 
and  so  to  proceed  through  the  public  places,  while  the 
firet  noblemen  of  the  land  should  make  proclamation 
saying:  "thus  shall  he  be  honored  whom  the  king 
wisheth-  to  honor."     (Est.  vi.  7.)     And  I  would  ap- 
peal to  you  all,  or  rather  to  Nature  speaking  in  your 
bosoms;  to  you  who  are  parents,  whether  you  would 
esteem  filial  love  perfect  in  your  child,  if,  when  raised 


■..lllKIWMil 


MtM 


l«W8Bl»lillllll»'lliilillllllWII 


IT.     . 

as  here  be- 
igbtness  of 
ely  we  can 
B  affection, 
very  other 
ng  charity 
of  blis8  in 
ml  ess  abyss 
emotely  to 
that  feeling 
'  Again  up- 
tein  of  our 
}  Himself  a 
1  a  faithful 
1  as  display- 
Away  from 

e  Him  such, 
tiers  to  love 
I  demonstra- 
irishes?  For 
d  to  express 
red  his  life? 
on  his  best 
>  the  diadem, 
369,  while  the 
proclamation 
om  the  king 
I  would  ap- 
king  in  your 
3r  you  would 
',  when  raised 


VENERATION   OF  TIIE   BLESSED    VIRGIN. 


337 


to  some  high  dignity,  he  grudged  you  every  participa^ 
tion  in  the  honor  he  received,  and  sternly  forbade 
men  to  consider  as  his  mother,  or  express  their  love 
and  respect  towards  her  who  had  borne  much  for  him, 
in  the  days  of  his  lowly  estate ;  to  you  who  are  chil- 
dren, if  you  would  envy  that  dignity  which  imposed 
upon  you  the  hai-sh  condition  of  renouncing  your 
natural  affections,  and  disowning  such  a  parent  ? 

Nay,  I  will  even  assert,  that  never  is  our  love  for 
Jesus  so  feelingly  excited,  as  when  we  contemplate 
Him  in  conjunction  with  His  blessed  Mother.  Never 
has  the  eye  of  art  seen  Him  so  amiable,  never  do  our 
hearts  so  warm  to  Him,  and  feel  so  familiarized  with 
Him,  as  when  He  is  represented  to  us  a  lovely  infant 
reposing  in  the  arms  of  His  Virgin  Mother ;  never  do 
we  so  feel  what  He  underwent,  how  He  bled,  and  how 
died  for  our  redemption,  as  when  we  gaze  upon  His 
pale  and  bloodless  corpse,  laid  upon  the  lap  of  His 
heart-broken  Mother,  and  read  in  her  countenance,  a 
grief  such  as  all  the  world  else  could  not  contain,  the 
only  measure  which  earth  could  give  of  the  sufferings 
He  endured  for  our  salvation. 

If,  then,  any  one  shall  accuse  me  of  wasting  upon 
the  Mother  of  my  Saviour,  feelings  and  affections 
which  He  hath  jealously  reserved  for  Himself,  I  will 
appeal  from  the  charge  to  His  judgment,  and  lay  the 
cause  before  Him,  at  any  stage  of  His  blessed  life.  I 
will  go  unto  Him  at  the  crib  of  Bethlehem,  and  ac- 
knowledge that,  while,  with  the  Kings  of  the  East,  I 
hi:,ve  presented  to  him  all  my  gold  and  frankincense 
and  myrrh,  I  have  ventured,  with  the  shepherds,  to 
present  an  humbler  oblation  of  respect  to  her  who 


r* 


838 


VENEBATION   OF  THE  DLESrlEU   VIRGIN. 


was  enduring  the  winter's  frost  in   on  unsheltered 
stable,  entirely  for  His  sake.    Or  I  will  meet  Ilim,  as 
the  holy  fugitives   repose  on  their   desert-path   to 
Egypt,  and  confess  that,  knowing  from  the  exanaple 
of  Agar,  how  a  mother  cast  forth,  from  her  house  into 
the  wilderness,  for  her  infant's  sake,  only  loves  it  the 
more,  and  needs  an  angel  to  comfort  her  in  her  an- 
guish  (Gen.  xxi.  17),  1  have  not  restrained  my  eyes 
from  her  whose  fatigues  and  pain  were  a  hundred-fold 
increased  by  His,  when  I  have  sympathized  with  Him 
in  this  His  early  flight,  endured  for  my  sins.     Or  I 
will  approach  a  more  awfal  tribunal,  and  step  to  the 
foot  of  His  cross,  and  own  to  Him,  that  while  I  have 
adored  His  wounds,  and  stirred  up  in  my  breast  my 
deepest  feelings  of  grief  and  commiseration  for  what  I 
have  made  Him  suflfer,  my  thoughts  could  not  refrain 
from  sometimes  glancing  towards  her  whom  1  saw 
resignedly  standing  at  His  feet,  and  sharing  His  sor- 
rows ;  and  that,  knowing  how  much  Respha  endured 
while  sitting  opposite  to  her  children  justly  crucified 
by  command  of  God  (2  Kings,  xxi.  10),  I  had  felt  far 
greater  compassion  for  her,  and  had  not  withheld  the 
emotions,  which  Nature  itself  dictated,  of  love,  and 
veneration,  and  devout  affection  towards  her.     And 
to  the  judgment  of  such  a  Son  I  will  gladly  bow,  and 
His  meek  mouth   shall  speak   my  sentence,  and  I 
will  not  fear  it.    For  I  have  already  heard  it  from  the 
cross,  addressed  to  me,  to  you,  to  all,  as  He  said : 
"  Woman,  behold  thy  son ;"  and  again :  "  Behold  thy 
mother."     (John,  xix.  26,  27.) 

It  is,  indeed,  remarkable,  my  brethren,  how  com- 
pletely that  motherhood  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  which 


'  ?J  laf »'ia«anii'  vn  luw 


IV. 

malieltered 
)et  Ilim,  M 
3rt-path  to 
le  example 

house  iuto 
loves  it  tbe 

in  her  an* 
3d  my  eyes 
and  red-fold 
i  with  Him 
sins.     Or  I 

step  to  the 
irhile  I  have 
7  breast  my 
I  for  what  I 
.  not  refrain 
hom  I  saw 
ing  Ilia  sor- 
)ha  endured 
tly  crucified 

had  felt  far 
withheld  the 
)f  love,  and 
)  her.  And 
lly  bow,  and 
ence,  and  I 
1  it  from  the 
[IS  He  said: 

Behold  thy 

how  coiu- 
T^irgin,  which 


VENERATION   OP  THE   BLESSED  A'IROIN. 


339 


the  woman  in  my  text  so  loudly  blessed,  has  been  de- 
lineated in  the  Gospel.  Almost  ail  the  other  persons 
connected  with  our  Saviour's  history  undergo  extraor- 
dinary changes.  John  the  Baptist,  from  the  solitary 
anchorite  in  the  wilderness,  becomes  the  herald  of  the 
Messias,  the  baptizer  of  Isi'tiel,  the  reprover  of  Phari- 
sees and  even  of  Kings.  Magdalen  fii-st  appoara  as  the 
woman  tenanted  by  evil  spirits  (Mark,  xvi.  9),  and  is 
soon  changed  into  an  ardent  follower  and  dauntless 
servant  of  Jesus.  The  apostles  begin  as  fishermen 
and  publicans,  to  be  transformed  into  workers  of  signs 
and  miracles,  even  before  their  Master's  passion.  But 
Mary  never  appears  in  any  character  but  that  of  a 
mother,  solicitous  and  suffering  only  for  her  Son.  She 
is  first  seen  receiving  the  heavenly  messenger,  and, 
according  to  his  promise,  conceiving  and  bearing  the 
eternal  Word  made  flesh  for  man's  redemption ;  and 
soon  becomes  an  object  of  persecution  to  His  enemies, 
80  as  to  be  compelled  to  abandon  her  native  land? 
Amidst  the  flattering  and  glorious  scenes  that  surround 
her  at  His  birth,  we  find  it  simply  recorded  of  her  by 
St.  Luke,  that  "  Maiy  kept  all  these  words,  pondering 
in  her  heart."  (Luke,  ii.  19.)  After  this  did  God  re- 
veal to  her  through  holy  Simeon,  the  piercing  grief 
which,  as  a  sword,  should  pass  through  her  soul. 
(Luke,  ii.  35.)  We  meet  her  not  again  till  twelve 
year  later,  the  solicitous  mother  wandering  about  the 
streets  of  Jerusalem,  seeking  her  lost  Son,  sorrowing. 
And  when  she  has  found  Him,  and  undei-stands  not 
perfectly  the  deep  mysterious  answer  that  He  makes 
her,  we  have  the  same  description  of  her  conduct, 
which  in  one  stroke  sketches  her  mild,  unobtrusive 


840  VKNEIUnON   OF  THE   DLBJSKD   VIROIN. 

character,  that  "His  Mother  kept  all  these  things 
in  her  h;art."     (Luke,  ii.  51.)     After  th..  we  have 
total  silence  in  her  regard,  during  eighteen  yeai^  of  a 
life  the  most  blessed  which  -an  be  conceived  upon 
earth,  under  the  same  roof  with  the  Son  of  God ;  U 
she  cLes  forward  once  more  to  initm  e  Him  into  His 
public  life,  by  inducing  Him  to  work  his  first  rmracle, 
at  Cana.  Through  the  three  yea.i.  of  his  wonderful  pub- 
lie  ministry,  while  all  Judea  rang  with  his  praises,  while 
crowds  piiLsed  round  him  to  be  .ea  ed,  while  priests 
and  Pharisees  and  doctors  of  the  ^^w  listened  with 
respect  to  His  doctrines,  and  men  would  have  set  the 
ro^Jal  crown  upon  His  head-she  takes  no  part  in  His 
triumphs  and  His  fame:   and  only  once  approaches 
Him,  in  tender  solicitude,  to  call  Him  from  the  house 
where  He  was  surrounded  by  the  multitude.    (Matt. 

•  •       Art  \ 

''"fiut  so  soon  as  we  come  to  the  last  perilous  trial 
when  disciples  have  fied,  and  apostl*^  have  denied 
Him;  when  friends  have  abandoned  Him,  and  Tela- 
tions  are  ashamed  of  kindred  with  Him;  when  He  is 
surrounded  by  a  ruffianly  mob,  whose  brutality  seems 
equal  to  any  outrage;  when  He  is  hedged  round  by 
the  cruel  array  of  soldiers  and  executioners,  to  may 
she,  the  mild,  retired  maid  of  Nazareth,  but  stil  the 
mother,  be  seen  pressing  through  every  obstac  e  to 
share  in  His  sufferings,  and  catch  His  dying  breath. 

This,  then,  is  the  only  character  in  which  it  is  meant 
that  we  should  know  her,  as  the  Mother  of  Jesus.  And 
are  not  we  the  brethren  of  Jesus  ?  Did  not  He  Him- 
self  assure  us  so  much ;  did  not  St.  Paul,  did  not  S  . 
John,  repeat' the  same  consoling  doctrine?    (Matt. 


•-saaaaM 


ttmif 


N. 

ese  tilings 
H  we  havo 
yeare  of  a 
•ived  upon 
f  Goa ;  till 
im  into  His 
rst  niiiacle, 
iderful  pub- 
raises,  while 
bile  priests, 
3tened  with 
lave  set  the 
part  in  His 
approaches 
Qi  the  house 
ide.    (Matt. 

erilous  trial, 
bave  denied 
m,  and  rela- 
wben  He  is 
itality  seems 
jd  round  by 
jrs,  tJien  may 
but  still  the 
r  obstacle  to 
ing  breath, 
ch  it  is  meant 
>f  Jesus.  And 
not  He  Hini- 
,  did  not  St. 
,rine?    (Matt. 


FENERATION   OF  TlIK   BLESSED   VIROIN. 


841 


xxviii.  10;  Rom.  viii.  17;  1  John,  iii.  1,  2.)    And  to 
us,  m^  brethren,  who  believe  that  every  tie  which  con- 
nectiMl  us  with  Him  on  earth  is  not  broken,  but  strength- 
ened in  Heaven ;  who  believe  that  a  holy  union»doe8 
exist  between  those  who  upon  earth  are  fighting  for 
their  crown,  and  those  who  in  Heaven  have  received 
it  already ;  who  believe  that  every  claim  we  can  make 
to  the  interest  and  intercession  of  those  who  have 
reached  the  goal  is  gladly  acknowledged  and  made 
good — to  us  who  so  believe,  yea,  and  who  so  feel,  this 
is  not  matter  of  vain  boast  or  empty  parade.    For,  if 
such  is  our  faith,  this  title  which  we  have  received  has 
gained  a  mother  for  us  in  Heaven,  who  will  often 
plead  in  our  behalf.     And  in  truth,  if  in  life  she  suf- 
fered  much,  it  may  really  be  said  that  she  suffered  it 
for  our  sakes.    By  which  I  do  not,  of  couree,  mean  to 
say,  that  what  she  or  any  other  mortal  underwent, 
could,  in  the  least  measure,  contribute  to  the  mighty 
work  of  our  redemption,  or  allay,  even  in  small  degree, 
the  enkindled  wrath  of  God ;  but  it  is  true  no  less, 
that  whatever  she  bore  was  from  deep  sympathy  in  the 
painful  work  of  our  salvation :  that  the  blows  of  the 
hammer  which  drove  deep  the  nails  into  her  Son's 
feet  and  hands,  drove  deep  the  sword,  too,   which 
holy  Simeon  had  placed  against  her  bosom ;  and  those 
blows  did  our  sins  heavily  strike ;  that  the  drops  of 
blood  drained  from  His  sacred  head  by  the  thorny 
crown  were  told  by  her  in  so  many  bitter  tears — and 
that  it  was  loe  who,  as  with  the  reed  of  our  fickle 
affections, '  ;at  that  crown  deep  into  His  meek  fore- 
head ;  that  His  last  gasp  was  fearfully  echoed  in  her 
wild  heart,  now  hollowed  of  all  that  had  cheered  and 


S4S 


VINERATION    OF  THE    UI.JiWKD    VIK«IN. 


■treogthenod  it ;  and  that  gasp  was  forced  oat  hy  atir 
transgressions:  in  (ine,  that  through  our  iniquities  she 
was  made  homeless,  and  friendless  and  childless.  And 
what  other  mother  ever  lost  such  a  Son  I  Thus  may 
we  say,  that  if  we  have  been  made  her  children,  in 
much  pain,  and  with  smarting  pangii,  she  hath  borne 
us.  While,  therefore,  with  the  devout  woman  in  tho 
Gospel,  wo  pronounce  her  blessed,  because  she  was 
the  Mother  of  our  Redeemer,  it  is  not  with  prejudice 
to  our  strivings  after  salvation,  nor  to  the  neglect  of 
our  present  advantages ;  it  is,  on  the  contrary,  that  we 
nay  calculate  so  much  the  more  justly  and  nicely,  the 
advantages  which  her  blessedness,  as  Mother  of  God, 
may  bring  us.  And  the  first  of  these  we  have  now 
seen ;  that  is,  the  close  bond  with  which  it  knitted  us 
to  her,  and  the  powerful  interest  in  our  salvation 
which  the  establishment  of  that  bond  hath  given  her. 
Next  to  this,  we  may  well  ponder  on  the  weight  of 
her  intercession.  For,  if  the  saints  io.  Heaven  have 
golden  vials  given  them,  as  we  are  told  in  the  Apoca> 
lypse,  filled  with  our  prayers,  as  with  sweet  odors, 
which  they  pour  out  before  the  throne  of  God  ( Ap<  i. 
V.  8),  with  what  fragrance  must  those  be  endowed 
which  are  shed  fi*om  heral  For,  inasmuch  as  her  dig- 
nity of  Mother  of  God  raised  her,  upon  earth,  above 
every  order  and  degree  in  the  human  race,  so  likewise 
in  Heaven  must  she  preserve  the  same  elevation,  be- 
yond  all  competition.  And,  if  the  word  of  God  has 
told  us  that  Jesus,  ascended  into  Heaven,  has  prepared 
corresponding  emblems  of  reward  for  every  state  of 
holiness,  golden  harps  for  the  patriarchs,  and  robes  of 
whiteness  for  the  virgins,  and  palms  for  the  martyrs, 


ai<inMi 


MRMM 


ns. 

oak  hy  o»r 
iquities  nhe 
I  less.    And 

Thu8  nmy 
children,  in 
lath  borne 
nan  in  tho 
BO  she  wan 
a  prejudice 
I  neglect  of 
iry,  that  we 
,  nicely,  the 
ler  of  God, 
a  have  now 

knitted  us 
r  salvation 
I  given  her. 
9  weight  of 
saven  have 
the  Apoca* 
veet  odors, 
3od  (Ap<  ?. 
e  endowed 
as  her  dig- 
arth,  above 
80  likewise 
evation,  be- 
>f  God  has 
as  prepared 
3ry  state  of 
id  robes  of 
le  martyrs, 


VENERATION   OK  TUB    HLKSHKD    VIR(JIN. 


848 


and  seats  of  jndgmont  for  the  apostles,  and  crownn  of 
glory  for  all  that  love  Hiiti,  by  what  etnbleni  shall  we 
describe  the  reward  which  must  have  been  bestowed 
npon  her,  who  closed  tho  line  of  patriarchal  holiness, 
forming,  as  it  were,  tho  wall  of  separation  between  the 
two  covenants,  who,  though  a  mother,  was  pure  so  as 
no  virgin  else  was  ever  pure ;  whose  niartynlom  of  in- 
ward grief  was  deemed  by  the  Spirit  of  Ood  fit  mat- 
ter of  holy  prophecy ;  who,  with  the  apostles,  received 
the  unction  of  the  Holy  Ghost  at  Pentecost,  and  who 
alone  of  all  mankind  could  say  that  she  loved  Jesua 
with  a  mother^s  love  I 

This  thought,  united  to  our  former  consideration, 
gives  a  powerful  motive  of  confidence  in  her  interces- 
sion. Not  that  we  believe  that  any  created  being  can 
bestow  upon  us  grace,  or  aught  that  can  tend  to  our 
justification ;  but,  believing  that  those  in  Heaven  join 
their  supplications  with  ours,  and  that  He  who  so 
often  had  compassion  upon  His  people  on  account  of 
His  servants,  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  will  often 
regard  their  prayers  when  ours  are  not  suflBciently 
powerful  to  nove  Him,  we  have  here  Btrong  and  con- 
soling grounds,  much  to  rely  on  the  love  and  influence 
of  His  blessed  mother. 

Lastly,  I  will  say  that  the  consideration  of  her  bless- 
edness may  be  rendered  useful  to  us  in  the  cause  of 
our  salvation,  if  it  be  a  means  of  attracting  our  affec- 
tions and  devotion  towards  our  heavenly  country.  All 
that  can,  without  diminishing  <wir  duty  to  God,  draw 
upwards  our  feelings  towards  Heaven,  must  be  salutary 
and  good.  The  child  that  should  long  for  its  bliss  be- 
cause, next  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  divine  Presence, 


sWBismsww 


T 


Hii 


844  VBMIBATION   OF  TUB   BLBMKD    VIKOIW. 

he  looks  forward  to  a  reunion  with  ft  lo«t  parent,  will 
not  surely  be  chid  by  the  utemest  bigotry,  o»  indulging 
in  an  unworthy  desire.     And  if  we,  moved  by  the  con- 
•iderations  I  havo  rehearsed,  feel  our  hearts  warmed 
with  an  atfectionato  devotion  towards  one  who  has 
so  many  claims  upon  it,  and  And  that  such  devotion, 
Always  subordinate,  and  fur  inferior  to  our  love  for 
God,  is  powerful  in  sunimoniug  up  feelings  of  ttnuler 
•motion,  which,  on  other  occasionH,  we  do  not  experi- 
ence, believe  me,  it  must  be  right  and  wholesome  for 
you  to  indulge  it.     In  Catholic  countries,  you  might 
tee  the  poor  and  afflicted  crowding  round  some  altar, 
where  their  pious  confidence  or  experience  of  past 
favore  leads  them  to  hope  that  their  prayeis  will  best 
be  heard  through  the  intercession  of  our  dear  lady ; 
and  you  would  mark  their  countenances  glowing,  and 
their  eyes   raised   upward,   and,  perhaps,  streaming 
with  tears ;  and  would  be  struck  with  the  heavinga  of 
their  bosoms,  and  the   eager    whisperings  of  their 
prayer,  and  the  deep  sobs  that  escapo  them.    Then, 
perhaps,  some  stranger  who  knew  them  not,  would 
scornfully  remark  to  you,  as  Heli  did  concerning  Aui.a 
(1  Kings,  i.  14),  that  those  poor  creatures  are  intoxi- 
cated with  a  lying  spirit  of  superetition,  or  even  idol- 
atry.   But  God  hath  looked  into  their  simple  hearts, 
and  judged  far  otherwise.    Even  if  that  confidence 
which  leads  them  to  a  particular  spot  be  unfounded, 
it  has  drawn  from  them  such  deep-breathed  sighs  of 
devotion  as  are  elsewhere  scarcely  to  be  seen ;  it  has, 
for  a  time,  at  least,  driven  the  world  and  its  follies 
from  their  hearts,  annihilnt<?d  all  thoughts  of  earth 
within  their  souls,  and  raised  them  upon  wings  of  love 


■** 


)arent,  will 
s  indulging 
by  th«  con- 
•ts  wftrniod 
e  who  liM 
I  devotion, 
ir  love  for 
i  of  ttauler 
not  experi* 
jlesomo  for 
you  might 
8om«  altar, 
nee  of  pa8t 
IS  will  b«8t 
dear  lady; 
lowing,  and 
I,  streaming 

heaving**  of 
g8  of  their 
lem.    Then, 

not,  would 
erning  Aui.a 
I  are  intoxi< 
>r  even  idol- 
mple  beartu, 
it  confidence 
e  unfounded, 
hed  sighs  of 
seen ;  it  baft, 
id  its  follies 
;ht8  of  earth 
wings  of  love 


VEffKKATION  O^  TIIK   PLKSMm   VIROIV. 


Mii 


towar<U  Heaven,  into  the  company  of  saint*  who  we 
Goil,  there  to  make  interest  with  her  who  is  best  by 
Him  beloved. 

Oh,  that  the  time  had  come  when  a  similar  expre* 
aion  ()f  our  devout  feelings  towards  her  should  pub- 
licly  be  made,  and  all  should  unite  to  show  her  that 
honor,  that  revcrenco  and  lovo  which  she  deserves 
fiom  all  Christians,  and  which  so  long   have  lieen 
denie<l  her  amongnt  usl     There  was  a  time  when 
Knglnnd  was  second  to  no  other  country  upon  earth 
in  the  discharge  of  thli  duty  ;  and  it  will  be  only  part 
of  the  restoration  of  our  good  and  glorious  days  of 
old,  to  revive  to  the  utmost  this  part  of  ancient  niety. 
Therefore  do  I  feel  HJucere  joy  at  witnessinj^  the  es- 
tablishment of  this  excellent  brotherhood,  and   its 
public  manifestation  in  this  town  this  day,  both  as  a 
means  of  encouraging  devotion  and  virtue,  and  as  a 
return  to  one  of  the  vt  nerable  institutions  of  our  fore- 
fathers.   Enter,  then,  fully  into  its  spirit.     Uii  every 
brother  of  this  Holy  Guild  consider  himself  bound,  by 
a  new  tie,  to  the  practice  of  all  that  his  religion  en- 
joins, spontaneously  engaged  to  display  greater  exact- 
ness  in  the  discharge  of  every  duty,  and  to  go  before 
othei-8  in  observance  of  the  Church's  precepts :  in  fre- 
quenting the  sacrauients,  in  sobriety,  honesty,  industry, 
docility,  and  quiet  p  aceful  demeanor,  both  at  home 
and  abroad.     Remember  that  this  day  you  have  put 
youi-selves  and  your  families  imder  the  protection  of 
the  ever-blessed  Mother  of  God  i..id  her  chaste  spouse, 
St.  Joseph,— -of  those  who  were  chosen  by  God  to  pro- 
tect the  infancy  of  Jesus  from  the  dangei-s  of  a  per- 
secuting world.    Entreat  them  to  protect  you  and 


840 


VKMKttATlON   or  TIIK   BLKMKD   VIRGIN. 


I 


youn  from  the  perils  of  »  •educing  «n«1  «niin»ring 
world,  to  |)l«ad  your  int«re«t«  in  Heaven,  and  Bocure, 
by  tlj»nr  intercwuion,  your  everlasting  crown.     Loudly 
proclaim  the  pralseii  of  your  heavenly  queen,  but  at 
the  «arue  time  turn  her  jwwer  to  your  everlasting  od- 
vantage  by  your  earnott  aupplicationi  to  her.    And 
this  you  cannot  mo»o  beautifully  do  than  by  that 
prayer  which  your  holy  mother,  the  Church,  taught 
you  to  Hup  itt  infancy,  and  to  recity  after  the  Loril'i* 
Prayer,  wherein  you  solute  Mary  iu  the  angel's  ond 
Eliwibeth's  word«,  and  conclude  by  OHking  her  prayer*, 
both  for  your  present  uecessities,  ond  for  the  futr.re 
but  certain  crisis  which  awaits  us  all.     May  »he,  who 
stood  at  the  foot  of  the  croes  when  her  Son  yielded 
Hia  meek  spirit  into  the  bonds  of  His  eternal  Father, 
. — rvith  him  whose  eyes  were  closed  in  peace  by  Hia 
divine  foster-ohild, — smooth  your  last  bed  of  sorrow- 
after  having  mode  the  road  to  it  less  burdensome  and 
dreary !     May  they  be  your  models,  your  patrons,  and 
your  encourogera  through  life  and  its  troubles,  to  be 
one  day  your  strengtheners  and  guardians  under  God, 
in  death  and  its  terrors :  that  so  they  may  bring  yon 
to  Him  who  vouchsafed,  for  our  sakes,  to  be  called 
'  their  Son  t 


14 


fJUIIJ     - 


IN. 

tmiiniinng 

I.  Liuilly 
ten,  but  at 
-Infltiiig  ad* 
her.  And 
n  by  that 
cb,  taught 
tbo  I^)rd'8 
lugerH  and 
or  pray«ni, 

the  futr.re 
ly  »A«,  who 
on  yielded 
nol  Father, 
ace  by  IIw 

of  sorrow* 
msome  and 
matrons,  and 
iibleg,  to  be 
under  God, 
f  bring  you 
)  be  called 


SERMON    XVII. 

Ht.  Lokk,  II.  51. 
"And  ho  WM  lol^act  to  them." 

Bkneatii  the  roof  of  a  church  dedicated  to  the  glo- 
rious and  evcr-blwwed  Mother  of  Ood,  whtjre  from 
every  side  shino  down  upon  us  the  emblems  of  her 
dignity,  on  a  day  on  which  is  commemorated  that 
maternity*  which  communicated  to  her  all  her  sub- 
lime prerogatives ;  in  the  presence  of  a  faithful  people, 
who  know  how  to  love  and  to  reverence  her,  it  would 
be  contrary  to  every  sentiment  that  inspires  me,  if  I 
spoke  to  you  to-day  upon  any  other  subject  than  that 
which  the  place,  the  time,  and  the  attendance  so  nat- 
urally suggest.  It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  say  any 
thing  to  you  who  hear  me  in  support  of  the  Catholic 
doctrine  concerning  devotion  to  the  blessed  Mother  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  it  is  not  requisite  that  I  should 
even  explain  to  you,  as  if  you  were  an  ignorant  flock, 
the  nature  of  this  devotion,  its  character,  its  conditions ; 
nay,  it  is  not  expedient  that  I  should  try  to  recom- 
mend that  devotion,  or  endeavor  to  add  any  thing  to 

*  The  FeMt  of  the  Maternity,  kept  in  Ireland  in  kntooui. 


348      ON  THE  MATERNITY  OF  TllE  BLESSKD  VIRGIN. 

the  fervor  which  I  know  animates  the  people  of  this 
island,  and  this  city  in  particular — the  fervor  of  that 
deep,  most  loving,  most  faithful  affection  towards  her 
whom  they  consider  their  patroness,  their  mother, 
their  best  and  truest  friend,  their  intercessor,  for  ever 
beside  the  throne  of  her  Son.     No,  my  brethren,  it  is 
not  for  any  of  these  purposes  that  I  will  address  you, 
but  it  is  rather  to  give  utterance  to  those  sentiments 
of  corresponding  love  and  devotion  which  form  a  tie 
between  us,  as  every  bond  of  faith  and  piety  ever 
must.    I  will  speak  to  you  upon  the  only  topic  which 
naturally  comes  to  one's  thoughts  here ;  and  I  am  sure 
that  yoa  would  think  I  was  wandering  from  what  be- 
longs to  this  day — that  I  was  withholding  from  you 
the  food  proper  to  this  festival  of  Maiy,  if  I  did  not 
endeavor  to  place  before  you  such  thoughts  as,  with 
my  inadequate  powers,  may  show  you  how  this  festi- 
val of  the  Maternity  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  recalls  to 
us  the  illustrious  virtues  with  which  she  was  endowed, 
and  the  sublime  privileges  with  which  she  was  in- 
vested.   We  will  simply  go  through  a  few  passages  of 
her  life,  and  consider  her  in  her  various  relations  with 
her  Son ;  and  see  how  we  can  trace  these  memorable 
events  that  distinguished  her  in  the  world,  that  have 
raised  her  to  a  place  beside  that  throne  of  her  Son  in 
Heaven,  to  her  simple  but  glorious  title  of  "  Mother  of 
Jesus." 

And  fii-st,  ray  brethren,  let  us  begin  by  contem- 
plating her  from  the  moment  in  which  she  verified  the 
words  of  the  augel,  and  gave  to  the  world  the  Incar- 
tate  Word.  It  is  certain  that  if  we  look  around  on 
earth  for  a  type  and  representation  of  the  best  and 


"I  !^i'j;WtM8Mi!a8WAWUIIWiBI!»^    M 


?l*W!^^lf^ 


Rom. 


ON  niE   SIATKUNITY  OP  TinS  BLESSED  VIRGIN.      349 


plo  of  this 
ror  of  that 
wards  her 
ir  mother, 
)r,  for  ever 
thren,  it  is 
itlress  you, 
sentiments 
form  a  tie 
piety  ever 
opic  which 
1  I  am  sure 
m  what  be- 
r  from  you 
'  I  did  not 
its  as,  with 
V  this  festi- 
n  recalls  to 
is  endowed, 
(he  was  in- 
passages  of 
iations  with 
memorable 
1,  that  have 
her  Son  in 
"  Mother  of 

by  contem- 
verified  the 
\  the  Incar- 
:  aronnd  on 
ihe  best  and 


purest  possible  affection ;  if  we  look  for  love  in  its 
utmost  intensity,  in  its  most  unselfish  simplicity,  in  its 
sweetest  tenderness,  there  at  once  arises  to  our  minds 
that  natural  affection  which  binds  the  mother  to  her 
child.  For  that  pledge  of  God's  love  she  is  ready  to 
sacrifice  herself,  forgetting  every  consideration;  not 
only  will  she  sacrifice  health  and  all  the  pleasures  of 
life,  but  life  itself,  if  necessary ;  and  we  cannot  imagine 
a  being  more  ready  >  give  her  existence  for  another 
than  the  mother  who  sees  her  child  in  danger,  and 
resolves  at  once  to  make  herself  an  oblation  for  its 
safety.  So  remarkable  is  this  affection,  that  God  has 
beautifully  chosen  it  as  the  representation  of  His  own 
love  for  man.  He  does  not  content  Himself  with  say- 
ing to  us,  » I  am  your  father,"  notwithstanding  all  the 
natural  ties  of  affection  the  title  suggests,  but  He 
compares  Himself  to  a  mother,  in  His  true  love  for 
us.  He  could  not  give  us  any  image  more  complete 
to  show  the  tenderness  of  His  love  for  us,  than  by 
comparing  Himself  not  to  a  father,  but  to  a  mother : 
*'  Can  a  mother  forget  the  child  of  her  womb  ?  And 
even  if  she  should  forget  it,  yet  will  I  not  forget  thee." 

{Is.  xlix.  15.)  • 

Still,  my  brethren,  perfect  as  is  this  love  considered, 
as  the  highest  and  holiest  of  earthly  affections,  there 
must  be,  and  there  is,  a  love  superior  to  it—far  greater, 
far  higher — a  love  divine.  The  mother  must  love 
God  more  than  the  infant,  for  which  she  is  ready  to 
sacrifice  herself.  No  virtuous,  no  pious,  no  devout 
mother,  but  knows  this,  that  rather  must  she  lose  her 
child  than  lose  her  God ;  and  it  is  difficult  to  realisse 
the  magnitude  of  this  love  that  transcends  the  love  of 


M.'it.ft;* 


it^ir^Mlia 


i^fSS^SS^MWBSSSfSSSSSteSsS^ 


■WlJ^t^>->«^)•^■«fl  J■^<-.t■■•.^  • 


■mr 


350      ON  THE   MATERNITY  OP  TllB  BLESSED  VIUOIN. 

the  mother  for  her  child.  There  are  times  when,  per- 
haps,  in  her  heart  she  reproaches  herself  with  not 
loving  God  as  ehe  loves  her  babe.  Even  the  holiest 
mother  will  confess  that  there  is  more  emotion  and 
sensitiveness,  and  more  practical  devotedness  in  the 
mother's  love  for  her  child  than  in  any  other ;  and 
that  willingly  would  she  love  God  in  the  same  way 
that  she  loves  the  object  of  her  maternal  affections ; 
willingly  would  she  feel  ready  to  do  or  to  suffer  as 
much  for  God  as  she  does  for  the  little  object  of  her 
tenderness.  In  danger,  therefore,  is  even  this  mater- 
nal love,  of  being  carried  to  excess,  so  intense  is  its 
nature.  When  the  moment  of  real  trial  comes ;  when 
sickness  strikes  the  child ;  when,  like  David,  she  prays 
and  fasts  for  its  life ;  when  she  offers  herself  in  ex- 
change that  the  child  be  spared ;  when  the  hour  comes 
that  she  sees  this  little  dear  one  begin  to  pant,  as  its 
breath  gradually  passes  away,  though  she  knows  that 
the  transition  is  only  from  a  life  of  darkness  and 
prospective  misery  to  one  of  deathless  life  and  infinite 
happiness,  still  she  regrets  to  part  with  that  child  for 
her  God,  and  for  a  short  moment,  perhaps,  she  re- 
pines and  sorrows.  If,  after  a  few  instants  of  burstp 
ing  grief,  she  begins  to  reflect  well,  what  are  the 
humble  words  that  come  first  to  her  lips  ?  "  Oh !  I 
have  loved  that  child  too  deeply ;  I  made  it  too  much 
the  idol  of  my  affections,  and  God  has  taken  it  to 
Himself."  We  see,  then,  my  brethren,  that  this  love 
of  the  mother,  however  beautiful,  however  natural, 
however  commended,  and  again  and  again  inculcated 
by  the  law  of  God,  may  become  a  dangerous  affec- 
tion, inasmuch  as  it  may  know  no  bounds,  and  pos* 


WMhttUt 


iium  ^i'mitf 


.   i»,«i^-iililft*>)tfi  II 


iRom. 

when,  per- 
'  with  not 
the  holiest 
lotion  and 
less  in  the 
sther;  and 

same  way 
affections ; 
;o  suffer  as 
ject  of  her 
ihis  mater- 
;euse  is  its 
nes;  when 
I,  she  prays 
self  in  ex- 
bour  comes 
pant,  as  its 
knows  that 
.'kness  and 
md  infinite 
it  child  for 
ps,  she  re- 
s  of  burst- 
at  are  the 
I  "Oh!  I 
t  too  much 
aken  it  to 
,t  this  love 
er  natural, 

inculcated 
>rou8  affec* 
9,  and  pos* 


ON  THE  MATERNITY  OF  THE  BLESSED  MROIN.      351 

sibly  absorb  all  the  divine  love  due  to  the  Creator 
and  Giver  of  all  things.  This  danger  is  illustrative 
of  the  force  and  power  of  the  mother's  affection  for 
the  child. 

To  only  one  being  on  earth — to  only  one  of  God's 
creatures  has  it  ever  been,  or  will  ever  be  granted, 
tlmt  this  love  could  not  be  misplaced — could  not  be- 
come excessive.  For,  by  virtue  of  the  maternity  of 
Mary,  she  was  constituted  the  Mother  of  God ;  and 
there  was  no  possible  danger  of  her  ever  carrying  the 
maternal  affections,  I  will  not  say  into  excess,  but 
even  to  the  nearest  approach  of  any  thing  that  was 
not  pure  and  perfect,  holy  and  most  acceptable.  The 
caresses  she  lavished  upon  her  child  she  lavished  upon 
God.  Exercising  the  right  of  the  mother,  she  embraced 
her  child,  and  it  was  God  she  embraced.  Eveiy  time 
she  administered  to  Him  the  nourishment  which  His 
infancy  was  pleased  to  require,  she  was  giving  to  the 
incarnate  God  a  part  of  herself,  bestowing  upon  God 
a  gift  which  no  other  being  was  entitled  or  permitted 
to  confer.  This  union  of  the  maternal  love  with  the 
divine  love  was  indissoluble.  The  two  branches  of 
charity  growing  in  her  were  so  completely  intertwined, 
that  no  power  on  earth  or  in  Heaven  could  separate 
the  one  from  the  other,  or  even  for  an  instant  disunite 
them ;  giving  her,  consequently,  this  singular  preroga- 
tive, that,  taking  the  highest,  the  most  pure  and  per- 
fect standard  of  human  love,  she  was  privileged  to 
exercise  it  towards  her  God,  so  that  it  was  impossible 
by  any  effort  of  her  virginal  heart  to  love  too  much, 
for  she  was  loving  God  with  all  the  power  of  a  mother's 
affection  for  her  child,  and  was  at  the  same  time,  ren- 


mmtt^iiitimimam 


r 


. ' 


f  ^ 


I 


I 


852      ON  THE   MATERNITY  OF  THE  BLESSEC   VIROIIf. 

dering  the  love  which  others  could  only  direct  to  the 
creature,  to  her  Creator. 

Surely,  then,  my  brethren,  we  have  hero,  referable 
to  the  maternity  of  our  dear  and  blessed  lady,  all  that 
constitutes  at  once,  in  this  earthly  love  of  the  mother 
for  her  child,  and  divine  love  of  the  creature  for  her 
God,  suintliness  in  its  highest   possible   perfection. 
What  is  the  standard  of  holiness  ?    The  love  of  God, 
the  observance  of  the  first  commandment :  "  love  God 
above  all  things ;"  for  those  who  thus  love  God,  fulfil 
the  law.    If,  therefore,  the  love  of  God  constitutes 
the  very  form  and  substance  of  holiness,  if  to  Mary 
was  given  the  privilege  of  loving  with  a  fervor  of  love 
that  could  belong  to  no  other  creature,  if  she  could 
love  her  God  with  all  that  intensity  of  affection  the 
highest  that  earth  can  furnish  as  the  representation  of 
the  most  complete  and  perfect  love,  that  of  the  mother 
for  her  child,  which  was  her  relation  to  God ;  she  had 
consequently  communicated  to  her  a  character  of  love 
incommunicable  even  to  blessed  spirits.     And  it  was 
this  love  of  her  God  which  raised  Mary  to  the  height 
of  holiness,  and  made  her  become  the  most  precious 
and  the  most  beautiful  of  His  saints. 

Let  us  now  dwell  for  a  few  moments  upon  the  sec- 
ond  stage  of  the  relations  between  the  Blessed  Virgin 
and  her  Son,  and  see  what  character  it  bestows  at  once 
upon  her,  different  from  that  which  belongs  to  any 
other  person.  The  gospel  of  this  day,  the  words 
which  I  have  chosen  from  it  for  my  text,  give  us  at 
once  a  clue  to  this.  Our  Lord  has  grown  into  that 
period  of  life  when  a  youth  has  a  will  of  his  own 
which  he  may  follow,  and  when  he  knows  full  well 


$»< 


J 


.'IROIIf. 

irect  to  the 

•e,  referable 
idy,  all  that 
the  mother 
ure  for  her 

perfection, 
ove  of  God, 

"  love  God 
e  God,  fulfil 

constitutes 

if  to  Mary 
rvor  of  love 
f  she  could 
iffection  the 
jsentation  of 
■  the  mother 
od ;  she  had 
icter  of  love 
And  it  was 
o  the  height 
ost  precious 

pon  the  sec- 
essed  Virgin 
(tows  at  once 
3ng3  to  any 
■,  the  words 
t,  give  us  at 
^n  into  that 
.  of  his  own 
W8  full  well 


ON   TIIE   MATEUNrrr   OF  TUB  BLlSaED  VIRGIN.     353 

his  prerogatives.      But  He  lived  in  Nazareth,  subject 
to  Ills  parents :  "  He  was  subject  to  them."    You  un- 
derstand, of  course,  what  that  must  mean.     It  follows 
that  from  that  time  He  obeyed  any  order  given  Him, 
in  that  relation  of  parent  and  child.   It  does  not  mean 
that   in  greater  or  more   important  things  Ho  con- 
formed to  the  will  of  His  mother  and  of  Joseph,  His 
reputed  father.     The  word  "  subject "  signifies,  as  every 
one  well  knows,  that  submission  which  is  due  from  a 
child  to  the  parent,  from  the  subject  to  his  prince ; 
which  characterizes  the  servant  in  his  bearing  to  him 
who  rules  over  him.     It  means  the  habit  of  constant 
obedience,  the  observance  of  every  behest,  the  readi- 
ness in  every  time  and  every  place  at  once  to  do  what 
is  bidden ;  it  means  the  disposition  of  mind,  and  of 
will,  and  of  heart,  to   sacrifice   a  pei-sonal  wish  to 
the  will  of  another,  to  substitute  another's  will  for 
one's  own.     Such  is  what  we  undei-stand  by  these 
■words ;    and  now  let  us  see  what  is  the  depth  of  their 
meaning.     Our  Lord  is  living  familiarly  at  home,  as 
other  children   might  live  with  their  parents;   He 
works  at  a  menial  trade ;  He  is  in  that  poor  household 
the  attendant  upon  His  mother.     He  is  not  called 
Rabbi,  or  Master,  or  Lord,  as  afterwards  He  was.    He 
is  still  known  by  the  name  of  His  infancy— by  the 
dear  name  which  the  augel  communicated  to  Mary — 
by  that  sweet  name  of  Jesus,  which  was  always  upon 
the  lips  of  His  mother  and  of  Joseph.     He  is  called, 
He  is  sent,  He  is  commanded,  or,  command  boing  un- 
necessary. He  is  desired  to  do  whatever  is  needful  for 
that  little  household.     As  his  reputed  father  advances 
in  years,  and  is  approaching  to  his  end,  the  obligations 

28 


T 


^Um 


854     ON  TlIE   MATERNITY   OP  THE  BLEfiSED   VIROIW. 

assumed  hy  the  blessed  Youth,  His  industry,  His  sub- 
missiou,  His  labors,  only  increase. 

I  have  asked  already,  what  does  this  iuaply  ?  Our 
blessed  Lord  is  God  as  well  as  man.  As  God,  His  holy 
will  is  none  other  than  that  of  His  eternal  Father, 
with  whom  His  union  is  so  complete,  that  it  is  impos- 
sible for  Him,  in  any  way,  to  have  any  will  in  contra- 
diction to  that  of  the  Father.  He  cannot,  however 
slightly  or  imperceptibly,  decline  from  the  will  of  His 
Father;  for  it  is  His  own.  No  authority,  no  jurisdic- 
tion, no  command,  can  possibly  induce  Him  to  depart 
in  the  smallest  degree  from  that  eternal  will  in  which 
He  is  Himself  partaker,  and  which  is  His  own  divine 
will,  and  in  which  there  can  never  be  otherwise  than 
full  and  perfect  identity,  not  conformity,  with  the  will 
of  God.  Now,  my  dear  brethren,  when  our  Lord 
obeys  man,  when  He  puts  His  will  at  the  disposal  of  a 
creature,  it  cannot  be  except  on  the  condition  of  com- 
plete certainty  that  there  will  be  in  every  command 
and  in  every  desire  that  may  be  expressed  to  him  a 
perfect  uniformity  with  the  will  of  God.  It  must  be 
the  same  to  Him  to  obey  the  will  of  Mary,  as  to  obey 
His  divine  Father;  for,  if  the  two  are  at  vaiiance,  He 
must  disobey  the  creature.  Not  only  must  this  fact 
of  confonnity  between  the  commands  of  the  one  and 
the  ^.'ill  of  the  other  be  such,  but  it  must  have  been 
to  the  knowledge  of  God  a  certainty  that  it  would  be 
always  such.  The  fact  of  declaring  that  Jesus  was 
subject  for  eighteen  ri>  5  ri4  to  that  blessed  mother,  at 
once  implies  that  He  knew,  during  the  eighteen  years, 
as  during  the  yearr  that  preceded,  that  there  would  be 
no  discrepancy  between  the  will  of  her  and  the  will 


T 


VlROUf. 

try,  Hia  iiub- 

uaply  ?  Our 
lod,  His  holy 
rnal  Father, 
;  it  is  impos- 
rill  in  contra- 
not,  however 
16  will  of  His 
r,  no  jurisdic- 
\m  to  depart 
vill  in  which 
I  own  divine 
herwise  than 
with  the  will 
en  our  Lord 
I  disposal  of  a 
iition  of  coin- 
ry  command 
ed  to  him  a 
It  must  be 
ly,  as  to  obey 
vaiiance,  He 
lust  this  fact 
the  one  and 
at  have  been 
t  it  would  be 
lat  Jesus  was 
id  mother,  at 
ighteen  years, 
liere  would  be 
and  the  will 


ON  THE   MATKUNrrV   OF  THE  ULE88ED   VIUOIN.     ^rt!i 

of  His  Father,  with  whom  every  act,  every  thought, 
every  breath  of  His  must  he  in  necessary  unison. 
Now,  my  brethren,  we  may  desire  to  love  God  to  the 
extent  of  our  power.  Man  may  seek  to  the  utmost  to 
do  what  pleases  the  Almighty ;  and  yet  we  know  it 
is  impossible  for  him,  in  this  world  of  imperfections 
and  temptations,  always  to  be  sure  that  his  will  and 
his  acts  are  in  accordance  with  the  will  of  God.  On 
the  contrary,  it  is  only  after  he  has  discovered  the  will 
of  God  that  he  can  truly  say  he  has  endeavoied 
to  follow  it.  It  is  a  perpetual  study,  a  constant  cnre 
and  anxiety  with  liim,  that  whatever  he  does  be  con- 
formable to  God's  will.  We  must  endeavor,  as  it  were, 
to  move  in  the  same  line  or  the  same  orbit,  following 
exactly,  step  by  step,  Him  from  whom  alone  we  can 
learn  and  derive  that  power  of  conformity  to  His  will 
in  all  things.  The  privilege  and  the  blessing  of  know- 
ing that  they  thus  conform  to  Him  is  reserved  for 
those  blessed  spirits,  the  souls  of  the  just  made  per- 
fect, who  live  in  God  and  in  the  eternal  enjoyujent  of 
His  presence,  who  cannot  for  a  moment  change  in 
their  devotion  to  Him,  or  in  their  state  of  perfect  uni- 
formity with  His  will.  This  will  be  the  happy  lot  of 
man  redeemed  and  saved,  when  the  time  of  trial  is 
gone  by,  and  when  he  can  no  longer  follow  his  own 
earthly  desires.  But  to  Mary,  upon  earth,  was  granted 
this  high  prerogative  of  being  in  perfect  conformity 
in  her  own  actions  to  the  will  of  God.  So  complete 
was  this  identity  of  sentiment,  that  the  Son  of  God 
Himself  was  able  to  obey  her  with  the  full  certainty 
that  every  command  of  hers,  that  every  request  of 
hers,  would  be  iu  perfect  and  entire  concord  with  the 


■""* ' ' '  '"■• 


856    ON  THE  MATERNITY  OF  TUB  fllJiSSED   VIROIN. 

will  of  Ilis  heavenly  Father.  And  so  every  look  of 
Mftry  was  but  the  reflection  of  the  *>-'e  of  God  ;  every 
word  that  passed  from  her  mouth  was  the  echo  of  the 
voice  of  God  coming  from  His  throne ;  every  com- 
mand or  wish  she  expressed,  every  impulse  and  eveiy 
suggestion,  harmonized  with  His.  Beloved  brethren, 
what  is  the  condition  necessary  for  love  ?  The  desire 
of  being  in  perf»>ct  unity  and  harmony  with  the  object 
of  affection ;  and  Mary  can  truly  be  paid  to  have  pos- 
sessed entire  union  of  heart  and  soul  with  God,  and 
not  alone  in  love,  but  in  action  and  in  word. 

Is  there  yet  a  higher  step  which  it  is  possible  for 
a  human  creature  to  aspire  to,  for  bringing  himself  or 
herself  nearer  to  God  ?  There  remains  but  one,  and 
it  is  that  higher  love  and  uniformity  with  God's  will, 
which  naturally  inspires  the  creature  with  a  desire,  if 
possible,  to  co-operate  with  the  Creator ;  to  be  not 
merely  a  material  instrument,  but  truly  a  sharer  in 
His  own  work;  to  be  choen  to  act  in  His  name,  and 
to  exercise  power  which  emanating  from  Him,  i»  still 
80  entrusted  that  it  may  be  used  with  the  freedom  that 
gives  merit  to  its  application.  Do  you  not  think  that 
the  8  '  pais  in  Heaven  who  see  the  face  of  the  Father, 
passing  a  blissful  etei-nity  in  contemplation  of  Him, 
esteem  it  a  distinction  to  be  still  further  deputed  to 
perform  the  will  of  God  ?  Do  you  not  believe  that  the 
guardian-angel,  who  is  sent  in  charge  of  the  least  cast- 
away amongst  the  children  of  men,  the  poor  foundling 
that  is  left  to  perish,  considere  himself  invested  with 
a  mission  full  of  dignity,  full  of  glory,  because  he  is 
thereby  doing  the  will  of  God,  carrying  out  His  pur- 
pose, the  salvation  of  mankind ;  or  that  when  an  illu* 


IL 


mtmmi9mmmm<immm 


T 


VIRGIN. 

irery  look  of 

God ;  every 
0  echo  of  the 

every  cora- 

se  and  eveiy 

ed  brethren, 

The  desire 

ith  the  object 

to  have  poa- 
th  God,  and 
)rd. 

possible  for 
ig  himself  or 
but  one,  and 
h  God's  will, 
th  a  desire,  if 
•;  to  be  not 
r  a  sharer  in 
'.\9  name,  and 

Him,  i»  still 
freedom  that 
ot  think  that 
f  the  Father, 
tion  of  Him, 
sr  deputed  to 
lieve  that  the 
the  least  cast- 
oor  foundling 
invested  with 
because  he  is 

out  His  pur- 
when  an  illus* 


T 


OK  TIIK  MATKUNITY  OF  THE   nHSSKD  VIROIX.      flAT 

trioas  angel  like  Gabriel,  Rnphncl,  or  Michael,  receives 
a  comnnssiun  to  bear  some  glad  tidings  to  the  world, 
or  perform  some  great  work  of  divine  dispensation,  he 
unfurls  his  wings  with  delight,  leaves  the  itnmediHte 
presence  of  God,  which  we  imagine  him  locally  to  con* 
template,  but  which  never  departs  from  him,  and 
proceeds  gladly,  whether  it  be  to  Daniel  to  expound 
prophecy,  or  to  Mary  to  bring  the  message  of  eternal 
love,  considering  it  the  highest  honor  to  be  thus  ena* 
bled  to  assist  in  carrying  out  the  glorious,  the  magnifi- 
cent designs  of  God  ?  And  what  was  the  position  of 
those  great  men  of  the  Old  Liiw,  commencing  with 
Moses  and  proceeding  down  to  the  Machabees,  who 
were  ordained  to  become  the  chiefs  of  God's  people, 
to  whose  guidance  and  care  was  committed  the  carry- 
ing out  of  His  great  mercies,  who  bore  in  their  hands 
the  rod  of  His  omnipotence,  who  carried  in  their 
breasts  the  secrets  of  His  wisdom  ?  Were  they  not 
honored  above  all  other  men  ?  Did  they  not  consider 
it  a  glory  to  be  thus  entrusted  with  any  great  mission 
of  providential  action  ?  There  was  too,  my  brethren, 
in  all  this,  some  reward  of  honorable  distinction  for 
those  so  engaged.  The  angels  thus  employed  are  dis- 
tinguished amongst  the  heavenly  ho^ts,  and  have  spe- 
cific names,  recorded  that  we  may  single  them  out  for 
devotion ;  and  those  who  were  so  honored  amongHt 
the  men  of  the  Old  Law,  were  thereby  raised  above 
the  rank  of  ordinary  prophets,  and  became  the  heioes, 
the  great  ones  of  the  earlier  dispensation. 

But  to  take  part  in  the  work  of  God  silently,  un- 
known, without  reward  from  mankind,  at  least  during 
life,  without  those  incentives  which  make  men  equal 


1 


»r>8      ON  T1IK  MATET5NITY  OF  TIIK  BI.KSRKD  VITWHW. 

to  A  great  and  high  niwslon  in  ♦  lie  wovhl,  that  wm  « 
merit  re«»"'v«Ml  fnr  li(»r,  without  vhone  co-ojx-rutinu  it 
M  haiu  to  Bay  in  whal  atat«  nmnkind  vvouil  have  bijpn. 
God  wwi  plewed  that  it  sliouUl  depend  on  her  that  the 
givatest  of  mysteries  should  \m  accomplished.  He 
gives  her  timo  to  deliberate;  H**  accords  her  permis- 
sion to  »ugg«8t  difl3cuUies,  to  make  her  own  terms, 
that  she  shall  not  have  to  surrender  the  precious  gift, 
which  she  values  higher  than  the  highest  imaginable 
'of  honors,  so  that  it  retiuires  the  assurance  that  to 
QoiVn  omnipotence  even  the  union  of  the  two  preroga- 
tives is  possible,  and  that  attribute  is  to  be  ex«rted 
for  her.  And  so  it  was  not  »r  til  she  had  said,  '  Be- 
hold the  handmaid  of  the  I^rd,  be  it  done  unco 
me  according  to  Thy  word,"  that  the  great  mystery 
was  accomplijhed. 

And  now  pause  for  a  moment.  Here  is  the  great-- 
est  of  God's  works,  not  since  the  creation  of  the 
world,  but  uuring  the  countless  ages  of  His  own  ex- 
istence,  the  Word  incarnate,  the  Word  mad"  flesh. 
Yet  how  singular  is  the  part  ot  Mary  in  this  myahry  1 
She  litters  the  words ;  they  scarcely  full  from  her  lij^s, 
and  she  alone  remains  entrusted,  not  only  with  the 
precious  gift  itself,  but  with  the  knowledge  of  it.  No 
one  elsf  *au  have  known  it.  Joseph  himself  ^as  not 
aware  of  it,  till  an  angel  revealed  it  to  him.  Allow 
me  now  for  an  instant  to  deviate  from  the  line  which 
I  was  pui-su'ng.  I  have  addressed  you  as  good  and 
faithful  Catholics,  believing  what  the  Church  teache* 
you,  and  also  as  servants  of  Mary,  feeling  true  devo- 
tion towards  her ;  but  I  beg  here  to  make  a  remark 
which  may,  perhaps,  be  useful  in  convening  with 


rmofif. 

,  that  wofl  ft 
oi)«-rutiuii  it 
1  have  b*?eu. 
her  that  the 
lished.  He 
her  pernii*- 
own  term«, 
reciotw  gift, 
.  iniAgiimble 
inc«  that  to 
wo  j>reiogi»' 
>  be  ex»*rted 
d  said,  '  Be- 
)  done  unco 
eat  mystery 

is  the  great- ■ 
itiou  of  the 
[lis  own  ex- 
mad^  flesh, 
bis  mystery  t 
rom  her  lips, 
)\y  with  the 
je  of  it.  No 
istilf  'vas  not 
him.  Allow 
le  line  which 
AS  good  and 
urcli  teaches 
g  tioe  de vo- 
ice a  remark 
versing  with 


0^f  TIIK  MATMINITT  Ot   TIIR  MLXfUIKP  VinoiK.      ;i.''i9 

others.     Ix>ok  at  those  men  who,  unhappily  f.»r  thp»i- 
selvt's,  know  not,  and  undurHtanu  nut,  the  prerogatives 
of  Mary;  look,  I  will  not  sa)    at  ,  hoso  more  wretc*h(  «l 
men  who  have  the  hardihood,  tho  iiufeelingness,  the 
brutality  to  decry  her,  but  to  those  who,  in  more  re* 
spectful  terms,  profess  simply  to  overlook  her.     Just 
see  tho  position  in  which  ^uch  pei-sons  are  placed,  aa 
to  their  belief.     They  say,  "we  cannot  worship,"  as 
they  call  it,  "the  Virgin  Mary;  we  cannot  honor  her, 
because  in  doing  so  we  should  be  derogating  from  tho 
honor  due  to  her  Son,  t«  tho  Word  incarnate,  to  Jesus 
Christ."     I  would  say  to  these  men  :     How  do  you 
know  that  Ho  waa  incarnate  ?     How  do  you  know 
that  the  Son  of  God  became  man  ?    You  suy  in  your 
creed  that  Ho  was  conceived  of  the  Holy  Ghost.    Who 
gave  you  evidence  of  that  conception  ?     Gabriel  did 
not  raanilest  it    He  vanished  as  soon  as  he  had  de. 
livered  his  message.     You  do  not  believe,  no  Protes- 
tant  bellt'ves,  that  the  Bible  is  a  simple  revelation; 
that  is,  a  series  of  truths  >  .t  known,  and  which  c(    Id 
not  be  known  by  huran     moans.    The  Evangelist* 
themselves—the  one  fron?    .h<  a  I  have  quoted — tells 
us  that  "  Mary  laid  up  all  these  words  in  her  heart," 
and  that  he  sought  information  from  those  who  knew 
every  thing  from  the  beginning.     Mary  was  the  onlv, 
^  sole  witne^H  in  the  world,  to  the  mystery  of  the 
incarnation.     Ther.;  was  only  her  word  that  she  con* 
ceived  thus  miraculously '  *  the  Holy  Ghost.    .^  he  told 
it  to  the  Apostles,  and  tiiey  believed  it,  and  recorded 
it  with  the  sanction  of  the  Holy  Spirit.    The  real 
source  of  the  historical  and  inspired  testimony  of  tho 
accomplishmeut  o*  the  great  mystery  of  the  incarna- 


■MKfSMa 


-as- 


if 


!, 


800      ON   TIIK  MATEIINItY  Ul'  TIH  MMlMKD  VIRGIN. 

tlon  'wMary;  nnd  th(w«  who  ivj«»of  lioroonM  not  hft%« 
mntui  to  h*<liev«»,  fxo'pt  through  her  t«'«fiiuony,  lluu 
0<>(1  took  upon  Ilim  our  natun'.  It  i*  through  Ihm* 
tluit  tli«y  kuuvv  it;  yt*t  thoy  pr«t«ntl  tliat  honor  to  hw 
is  at  His  «xp«nie.  But  iw  it  wiui  with  her  co-operation 
tliat  this  great  mystery  was  wrouglit,  so  w/ta  it  rigut 
tliat  through  hor  it  shouU!  bo  couununicatod. 

Thu  time  at  lengtli  cam«i  for  the  awful  completion 
of  that  eternal  mysttuy  of  our  redemption,  which  wns 
to  abtonish  angeU  and  men.     'J'hen-  was  on«  h*art  in 
which  all  that  was  to  come  was  faithfully  treasured— 
hers  who  had  listened  to  the  wonderful  and  mysterious 
words  of  the  venerable  old  man  that  told  her,  in  the 
days  of  her  motherly  happiness,  that  the  sword  of 
affliction  would  pierce  her  heart.     Oh  1  she  ha<l  often, 
no  doubt,  conversed  on  the  painful  topic  with  hor  di- 
vine Son.    She  knew  too  well  what  was  the  course  He 
had  to  run.    She  knew  wherefore  He  had  come  into 
the  world,  and  how  every  breath  of  His  was  an  act  of 
obedience  to  the  will  of  God.    She  knew  well  that 
He  had  bitter  food,  indeed,  fo  take,  which  was  not 
prepared  for  Him  by  her  hands.     She  had  lived,  by 
anticipation,  in  the  suffering  which  naturally  resulted 
from  this  knowledge  communicated  to  her;  and  she 
well  knew  that  the  time  was  come  when,  at  the  last 
passover  with  His  disciples,  He  wns  about  to  cut 
aside  this  world,  and  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  His 
Fathor.    Then  did  she  know  that  another  cup,  be- 
sides  that  of  Hb  paschal  feast,  was  to  be  placed  in 
His  hands,  to  be  drained  by  Him  to  the  dregs.     She 
knew  that  well— so  well  that  it  is  hardly  neceasary 
even  to  have  recouree  to  the  pious  tradition,  that  she 


r 


VllUilif. 


OK  TO*  MATMUftrr  or  Tiii:  iiLKiiMKD  viRoirr.    3<U 


il«1  not  hh^  n 
iiiiony,  thaw 
throu((h  lit'i' 
jonor  to  htir 
co-operation 
vAn  It  rig'iit 

13(1. 

completion 
I,  which  wni 
)no  h«art  in 

treaiured— 
il  ntyHtorious 
I  her,  in  the 
le  sword  of 
le  ha<l  often, 
with  hor  di- 
le  course  He 
d  come  iuto 
vos  an  act  of 
!vv  well  that 
lich  was  not 
ftd  lived,  by 
ally  resulted 
ler;  and  she 
I,  at  the  last 
bout  to  cjwt 
jdoni  of  His 
her  cup,  be- 
be  placed  in 

dregs.  She 
Jly  nece&sary 
tion,  that  she 


SAW  !n  A  vision  what  paswd  In  the  garden  of  Geth. 
semani.  But  certain  it  is,  that  tie  moni.ng  dawn  «aw 
her  hapten  to  her  Hon,  in  order  to  carry  out  that  con- 
formity which  «ihe  bad  pi-esorve  "  with  the  will  of  Ood 
during  the  whole  of  her  life;  that  conformity  which 
had  been  so  great,  that  her  Bon,  in  ol>edience  to  her 
will,  anticipated  the  time  for  the  perfonnauce  of  Ilia 
firwt  miracle.  It  was  right  that  this  conformity  should 
at  length  be  transmuted  into  a  perfect  unity,  incapa- 
ble  of  the  slight»st  separation ;  and  thai;,  could  only 
tin  done,  tm  it  wna  ttocompliahed  on  Calvary  at  the  foot 
of  the  cross. 

My  dear  brethren,  why  waa  Mary  there  t  That 
simple  question  in  it«  answer  solves  a  great  problem. 
Why  waa  Mary  thtre  ?  It  was  no  part  of  the  stiitfinoe 
on  Jesus,  as  if  to  increase  or  enhance  the  bitterness  of 
His  death,  that  His  Mother  should  stand  by ;  and  it 
never  waa  commanded  in  any  nation,  howevar  barbae 
rous,  that  the  niother  should  be  at  the  scaffold  when 
her  son  expiated  what  was,  rightly  or  wrongly,  impu- 
ted to  him  as  his  guilt.  It  waa  not  compulsory  ou 
Mary  to  be  at  Calvary;  she  was  not  driven  thei-e,  nor 
was  it  Tisual  in  her  to  seek  publicity.  She  had  fol* 
lowed  Him,  indeed,  through  all  His  mission  in  Judea, 
but  she  used  to  stand  without,  and  the  people  who  sur- 
rounded Him  would  say,  "  Your  mother  and  brethren 
are  outside."  She  did  not  claim  the  privileges  of  her 
rank  to  be  close  to  Him  when  he  was  disputing  with 
the  Pharisees,  or  instructing  multitudes.  When  He 
went  into  a  house  to  peiform  His  miracles,  or  to  a 
mountain  to  be  trannflgured,  He  took  Peter,  James, 
and  John.    We  read  not  that  Mary  presumed  to  fol- 


ritaMM 


8G2    ON  THE   MATERNITY   OF  THE  BLESSED   VlUi  IXf. 

low  Him,  and  exult  in  the  mngniflcent  exercise  of  His 
divine  power,  or  the  manifestation  of  His  heavenly 
glory.  No,  she  followed  at  a  distance  ;  she  kept  near 
Jesus,  watching  over  Him.  But  she  knew  that  it  was 
not  her  hour ;  that  it  was  not  yet  the  time  when  her 
parental  duty  was  to  be  associated  with  her  parental 
rights.  She  had  lived  the  whole  of  her  life  in  retire* 
ment,  first  in  the  Temple,  then  in  the  cottage  at  Naza- 
reth. And  she,  who  naturally  shrunk  from  the  assem- 
blies  of  men,  came  forth  at  the  time  most  trying  to 
her  feelings,  to  be  present  at  the  execution,  the  brutal 
execution,  of  her  Son,  in  that  form  of  suffering  which 
was  most  revolting,  and  most  fiercely  rending  of  her 
tender  heart.  Mary  came  forth  to  witness  the  death — 
of  whom  ?  Of  her  only,  beloved  Son,  of  her  only  child, 
whom  she  remembered  once  an  infant  in  her  arms. 
She  will  draw  nigh  to  see  those  hands  cruelly  pierced 
which  she  had  so  often  pressed  to  her  lips ;  she  will 
stand  by  to  see  that  noble,  that  divine  countenance — 
the  first  loot  from  whose  eyes  beamed  upon  her,  the 
fii-st  smile  of  whose  lips  shone  upon  her  heart — be- 
dewed with  blood,  streaming  from  the  thorny  crown ; 
to  see  Him  still  bearing  the  marks  of  having  been 
beaten,  and  buffeted,  and  defiled  by  spittle,  and 
mocked  by  His  persecutors.  She  came  to  seek  Him  at 
the  hour  of  this  suffering.  And  why  ?  Because  the 
heart  of  the  Mother  must  be  near  that  of  the  Son,  in 
order  that  they  may  be  both  struck  together,  and  so 
endure  most  perfect  union  of  suffering,  that  she  may 
be  said  truly  to  co-operate,  in  sympathy,  with  the  di- 
vine work  of  salvation. 
Suppose,  my  brethren,  yon  have  two  masses  of  un- 


#■ 


«ti 


rcise  of  His 
is  heavenly 
e  kept  near 
that  it  waa 
J  when  her 
er  parental 
'e  in  retire* 
ge  at  Naza- 
n  the  assem- 
;  trying  to 
1,  the  brutal 
iring  which 
ling  of  her 
the  death — 
r  only  child, 
I  her  arms. 
>lly  pierced 
s;  she  will 
intenance — 
m  her,  the 
heart — be- 
my  cro\7n ; 
aving  been 
pittle,  and 
)eek  Him  at 
because  the 
the  Son,  in 
her,  and  so 
it  she  may 
rith  the  di» 

iHses  of  un^^ 


ON  TIIK  MATERNmr  OF  TIIK  BLKSSED  VIRGIN.     868 

alloyed  gold.  Let  the  one  be  heavier  than  the  other, 
of  incomparably  greater  value,  more  beautiful  in  its 
color,  more  pure  in  its  substance,  and  in  every  way 
more  precious  from  a  thousand  associations.  Let  the 
other  be  also  indeed  of  great  pi-ice,  though  very  infe- 
rior to  it.  What  will  you  do  that  they  may  become 
only  one?  Cast  them  into  the  same  crucible,  heat 
them  in  the  same  furnace,  and  they  will  melt  into  one, 
80  that  you  may  not  separate  them  again.  What  a 
furnace  of  affliction,  what  a  crucible  of  torture  and 
of  anguish  was  that,  in  which  the  two  hearts  of  Jesu? 
and  Mary  were  fused  in  that  hour  on  Calvary !  And 
could  it  have  been  possible  that  there  should  arise  a 
difference  of  thought,  of  feeling,  even  of  deaire  between 
the  two  ?  Could  it  have  been  possible  to  unravel  then:, 
having  lost  every  other  thought,  every  other  idea,  in 
the  predominant  one  of  accomplishing  the  great  sacri- 
fice which  God  had  appointed  for  the  salvation  of  man  ? 

As  musical  chords,  when  in  perfect  harmony,  will 
80  sympathize,  that  if  one  is  struck  its  vibrations  will 
be  communicated  to  the  other,  and  agitate  it  in  strict 
accord,  so  did  the  fibres  of  those  two  most  blessed 
hearts,  agreeing  so  justly  in  tone,  utter  the  same  sweet 
strain  of  patient  love ;  and  every  pang  and  throb  of 
one  was  faithfully  repeated  in  the  other. 

Then  this  conformity  went  further  still.  In  that 
most  solemn  hour  Jesus  formally  recognized  Mary  as 
His  Mother,  as  He  proclaimed  God  to  be  His  Father. 
What  could  she  aspire  to  but  imitation,  however  im- 
perfect, of  what  the  Heavenly  Father  was  accomplish- 
ing in  His  well-beloved  Son  ?  Then,  as  she  knew  that 
the  Eternal  Father  was  surrendering  Jlim  to  sacrifice 


7 


::i;wj'i'" 


iiiwittiiwi 


f 


864     ON  THE  MATKRNITY  OF  THE  BLESSED  VIRGIN. 

and  to  death  out  of  love  for  man,  could  she  do  less 
than  surrender  Him  too  ?    And  she  ia  come  hither  for 
this  very  purpose.    Therefore  does  she  stand  at  the 
foot  of  the  cross,  that  for  lost  man  she  may  make  a 
public  and  willing  sacrifice  of  all  that  is  dear  to  her 
on  earth.    Only  she,  His  Mother,  can  thus  put  heraelf 
into  strict  uniformin  with  Hi^  Almighty  Father.    As 
she  acceptfl<i  Him  at  His  incarnation,  she  yielded  Him 
at  His  death,  saying :  ''  The  Lord  giveth  and  the  Lord 
taketh  away ;  blessed  and  fully  accomplished  ever  be 
the  will  of  God.^    Yes,  although  it  may  wring  her 
maternal  bosom,  and  drive  the  sword  of  affliction  deep 
into  her  loving  heart,  even  to  its  inmost  core.    Thus 
it  is  she  became  a  coH)perator,  as  far  as  possible,  with 
God  in  His  great  work;  she  became  the  priestess  on 
the  part  of  all  mankind,  who  was  allowed  to  accom- 
plish the  holocaust,  which  was  considered  too  difficult 
and  painful  for  Father  Abraham,  the  sacrifice  of  a  be- 
loved  child.    While  we  know  that  Jesus  Christ  is 
alone  the  high-priest  and  tht  victim  to  His  Father,  we 
do  not  derogate  from  the  infinite  majesty,  efficacy,  and 
sublimity  of  the  oblation  of  the  Lamb  upon  our  altars, 
by  believing  that  He  permits  us.  His  unworthy  priests, 
to  be  in  a  certain  degree  His  coadjutoi-s  in  the  work, 
not  in  any  way  increasing  its  efficacy  by  aught  that 
we  can  do,  but  still,  standing  as  it  were  at  His  side, 
His  ministers  soliciting  and  producing  the  divine  ac- 
tion, without  which  nothing  that  we  can  do  would 
take  effect.    In  some  such  manner  it  may  be  said  that 
Mary,  loving  God  as  no  other  creature  ever  loved 
Him,  loving  in  conformity  with  his  divine  will,  in  a 
way  never  granted  to  any  other  being  on  earth,  at 


'MM  II  HI 


she  do  less 
e  hither  for 
:and  at  the 
nay  make  a 

dear  to  her 
I  put  hereelf 
L^'ather.  As 
yielded  Him 
nd  the  Lord 
ihed  ever  be 
1  wring  her 
Bictiou  deep 
core.  Thus 
ossible,  with 

priestess  on 
ed  to  accom- 
i  too  difficult 
'ifice  of  a  be- 
1U8  Christ  is 
is  Father,  we 
,  efficacy,  and 
on  our  altars, 
orthy  piiests, 

in  the  work, 
y  aught  that 

at  His  side, 
)he  divine  ac- 
an  do  would 
J  be  said  that 
e  ever  loved 
due  will,  in  a 

on  earth,  at 


ON  THE   MATERNITY  OF  THE  BLESSED  VIROTN.     865 

length  reached  that  which  must  be  the  very  consum- 
mation of  the  desire  of  love,  that  of  acting,  working, 
and  suflFering  with  God ;  taking  part,  so  far  as  human 
infirmity  can  do,  in  the  accomplishment  of  His  sublime 
and  glorious  work  of  redemption. 

My  brethren,  I  am  sure  that  many  of  your  hearts 
have  been  suggesting,  that  this  maternity  of  Mary  ex- 
tends beyond  one  dear  Son;  and  you  ask,  are  not 
we  her  children  ?    Do  we  not  commemorate,  this  day, 
her  kind,  affectionate,  and  efficacious  relationship  with 
us  of  a  mother  to  her  children  ?    I  need  not  tell  you 
that,  when  the  two  sacred  hearts  of  Jesus  and  Maiy 
were  so  melted  together  in  affliction  as  that  they  could 
not  be  separated,  that  was  the  hour  in  which  the  fully- 
recognized  brotherhood  between  Jesus  and  us  was  es- 
tablished.   The  relationship  which  commenced  with 
the  incarnation,  caused  us  to  become  His  brothers 
truly,  and  Mary  consequently  to  become  our  mother ; 
but  His  parched  and  quivering  lips,  just  before  He  ut- 
tered His  last  cry  upon  the  crop-?,  proclaimed  this  kin- 
dred, and  bade  her  receive  from  John  his  love  as  from 
a  child,  and  John  to  receive  hers  as  of  a  mother.   We 
accept  these  words  in  their  fullest  sense.     We  take 
our  place  willingly  with  the  beloved  disciple  without 
fear  of  being  rejected,  aud  gladly  send  up  our  prayera 
to  Mary  for  intercession,  as  our  mother  sitting  on  her 
throne  in  Heaven.    We  cannot  place  her  in  the  ranks 
of  other  saints  who  are  partaking  of  bliss  with  Him. 
There  are  amongst  th^m,  no  doubt,  those  to  whom  we 
owe  special  devotion,  those    who  are    the    pati'ons 
of  our  country,  those  who  planted  and  defended  its 
faith,  who  were  celebrated  for  having  honored  it, 


jtfjiBMy  ..;'tff'ttiw.jagwyiB.<!Wjaw  ^  -'  f^  \^^t^,v^^^- 


vr-?Tr^:3BSWSa..'l!Wk.S;'-  i-?'  '^'*- 


866    ON   THE  MATERNITY   OF  THE   BLK88ED   VIRttlN. 

ftnd,  Still  irore,  blessed  it.  There  are  also  there  our 
guardian  angels,  with  the  mighty  host  of  blessed 
spirits  that  we  know  to  be  ministering  before  the 
throne  of  God.  Yet,  not  with  the  honor  that  we  pay, 
or  the  prayera  which  v  ^  address,  to  any  of  this  glori- 
ous array  of  saints  and  angels,  can  we  classify  the 
deeper  devotion,  the  more  fervent  supplications,  still 
lees  the  filial  duty  which  we  owe  the  Mother  of  God. 
We  speak  to  them  as  saints,  as  faithful  sei-vants  of  the 
Lord,  as  our  friends  who  have  preceded  us  to  glory, 
and  can  assist  us  there;  but  to  none  can  we  use 
the  words  which  we  can  apply  to  Mary ;  to  none  can 
we  speak  as  a  child  to  its  mother ;  with  none  other  can 
we  establish  our  claim  to  the  patronage,  care  and  love, 
which,  as  chilf'ren  of  a  common  mother,  every  day  and 
every  night,  we  are  at  liberty  to  demand  from  Mary. 
Even  as  Solomon,  when  his  mother  *vas  announced, 
rose  and  bowed  to  her,  and  placed  her  at  his  right 
hand  on  a  throne  before  all  others,  so  is  Maiy  placed 
between  the  heavenly  host  and  her  Son.  And  so, 
when  we  think  of  her,  w-a  may  lift  our  minds  and 
thoughts  to  her  as  to  one  adorning  Heaven,  its  second 
brilliant  luminary,  shining  next  to  its  Sun,  and  above 
the  highest  ranks  of  the  blessed  hosts.  And  why  ? 
Because  she  is  the  Mother  of  God.  Her  maternity 
has  bestowed  upon  her  that  which,  after  all,  is  the 
completion  of  her  love.  Her  love  is  perfect,  her  con- 
formity is  rendered  eternal,  and  her  co-operation  with 
Jesus  perennial,  in  the  constant  flow  ^>£  her  kindness 
to  us,  in  her  perpetual  representing  of  our  wants  to 
her  divine  Son,  in  her  faithful  intercession  for  us  all, 
conBist^ntly  with  her  singular  prerogative  as  the  Mo- 


VIRGIN. 

o  there  our 
of  blessed 
before  the 
that  we  pay, 
f  this  glori- 
classify  the 
cations,  still 
lei*  of  God. 
vants  of  the 
IS  to  glory, 
tan  we  use 
bo  none  can 
ne  other  can 
ire  and  love, 
ery  day  and 
from  Mary, 
announced, 
it  his  right 
[aiy  placed 
I.  And  so, 
minds  and 
),  its  second 
and  above 
And  why  ? 
r  maternity 
p  all,  is  the 
KJt,  her  con- 
ration  with 
er  kindness 
r  wants  to 
for  us  all, 
as  the  Mo- 


on  TUK   MATEUNITY   OF  THE   BLESSED   VIUOIN.    367 

ther  of  God.    Then,  beloved  brethren,  relax  not  in 
your  affection  to  her. 

Mind  not  more  than  you  do  the  winds  that  fly  past 
you,  words  which  you  may  hear  in  disparagement  of 
this  most  beautiful  devotion,  as  if  tlie  worship  uf  our 
divine  Lord  suffered  from  devotion  to  her.  Pray  fre- 
quently to  her  in  your  necessities,  in  your  wants,  in 
your  trials,  personal  or  domestic,  f.ad  feel  sure  that 
she  will  attend  to  your  petitions.  Be  assured  that 
the  link  which  bound  Him  to  her  on  earth,  and  con- 
tinues to  unite  Him  to  her  in  Heaven,  also  binds 
us  to  her ;  so  that  in  Jesus  and  Mary  we  may  place 
our  confidence,  and  our  hope,  in  the  end,  of  eteraal 
bliss. 


B«i 


il   III  I  ■»   .11 


L 


l.iL.,.Ul     I.L'IBIWPtWWWW 


APPENDIX. 


PASTORALS  ON  DEVOTION 


fO 


THE  SACRED  HEART  OP  JESUS  CHRIST, 


IN  CONNECTION  WITH  EDUCATION. 


No.  I. 
(Dtt  the  MtttA  %mt 

An  estabibbt'd  nwage  requires  us  to  solicit  your 
charity,  for  the  -docafcion  of  our  poor ;  and  we  hardly 
know  how  we  could  more  effectually  appeal  to  it, 
than  through  those  motives  which  the  festival  where- 
on  we  address  you  especially  presents  us,  in  the  inex- 
haustible charity  that  is  centered  in  the  Sacred  Heart 

of  Jesus. 

This  festival  forms  the  close  of  that  series  which, 
commencing  with  Christmas,  has  crowded  into  less 
than  half  the  year,  the  commemoration  of  our  dear 
Lord's  life,  death,  and  glory.  And  how  appropria,te- 
ly !  We  saw  Him  born  into  the  world  of  sin,  which 
He  came  to  redeem,  and  in  every  circumstance  which 

24 


1 


mmti 


870 


ON   THE  SACRED    IIKAKT. 


preceded,  aroompRnied,  or  followed  that  wondpiful 
advent,  we  read  additional  pioof»  of  the  love  which 
canned  it.  Then  shortly,  almost  suddenly,  we  found 
ourselves  hurried  into  the  naidst  of  sorrowful  scenes, 
where  agony  instead  of  smiles,  blows  in  place  of  naa- 
ternal  caresses,  a  cross  for  a  cradle,  gall  and  vinegar 
instead  of  virginal  milk,  eyes  closed  in  death  instead 
of  their  first  radiant  opening  to  life,  gave  evidence  of 
the  same  love,  to  the  t.*.me  man,  from  the  same  Incar- 
nate God.  And  even  death  changed  into  life  once 
more,  and  ignominy  into  honor,  and  earth  exchanged 
for  Heaven,  with  man's  welfare  for  sole  motive,  were 
only  additional  demonstrations  of  the  same  divine 
charity  for  us.  After  passing  through  this  couree  of 
festivals,  which  followed  our  blessed  Saviour  to  Heaven, 
and  thence  received  from  Him  His  holy  Spirit,  we 
gathered  together  once  more  to  feast  upon  the  inheri* 
tance  which  he  had  left  behind.  It  was  a  banquet 
spread  with  every  deliciousness,  filled  to  overflowing 
with  every  grace ;  there  was  the  Bread  of  Life,  the 
Manna  of  Angels'  Lord :  there  was  the  Cup  of  saiva- 
tioa ;  the  Wine  which  cheereth  the  heart  of  man ; 
there  was  the  concealed  Divinity  of  Bethlehem,  there 
the  real  sacrifice  of  Calvary,  there  the  same  glorified 
Flesh  which  rose,  ascended,  and  sits  at  the  right  hand 
of  God.  All  the  mysteries  by  which  we  were  ran- 
Bomed,  saved,  and  brought  to  Him,  were  there  united 
in  wonderful  truth  and  living  reality. 

What  love  for  man  I  What  tenderness  of  charity ! 
what  unselfish  devotion  to  his  interests  I  May  we  not 
seek  out  its  source  ?  Shall,  we  not  drink  there  to  the 
full,  drawing  water  with  joy  from  the  fountain  of  our 


^^ 


ty^fiSssifSVi''**^''^ 


EriB 


OW  Tni:  » ACRED   HKART. 


an 


wondpiful 
love  which 
f,  we  found 
vful  scenes, 
>lace  of  raa- 
and  vinegar 
ath  instead 
evidence  of 
same  Incar- 

0  life  once 
exchanged 

lotive,  were 
arae  divine 
is  courae  of 
[•  to  Heaven, 
y  Spirit,  we 

1  the  inheri- 
s  a  banquet 
overflowing 
of  Life,  the 
up  of  saivar 
rt  of  roan ; 
ehem,  there 
ne  glorified 
I  right  hand 
e  were  ran* 
there  united 

of  charity  I 
May  we  not 
there  to  the 
itain  of  our 


Saviour  ?    (Isai.  xiii.  3.)     IIow  inexhaustible  must  be 
its  supply  of  mercy  and  grace !     Where,  then,  dearly 
beloved  in  Christ,  is  it  to  be  found  ?     It  is  the  Hem  t 
of  Jesus,  that  contains,  and  sends  forth  perennially,  this 
rich  abundenco ;   filling  the  pure  vessel  itself  with 
sweetness,  and  thence  flowing  in  an  unfailing  itream, 
stronger  than  the  tonent  of  Cedron  (2  Chron.  xxx. 
14),  brighter  than  the  rivers  of  Damascus  (4  Reg.  v. 
12)!  more  cleansing  than  the  w..  ors  of  Siloe  (Jo.  i.x. 
7),  and  holier  than  the  stream  of  Jordan.     (Mar.  i. 
9.)    To  come  not  only  to  see,  but  to  taste  also,  how 
iweet  is  the  I/>rd,  we  are  invited  by  Himself  (Ps. 
xxxiii.  9) :  and  we  will  draw  nigh  with  Thomas,  not 
unbelieving,  nor  doubting,  but  full  of  faith,  of  con- 
fldence,  and  of  love,  and,  instead  of  touching  with  our 
hands  the  open  floodgate  whence  flowed  this  munda- 
lion  of  tenderness,  we  will  reverently  drink  of  it,  till 

our  souls  are  filled. 

For,  what  tongue  can  describe  the  treasures  which 
issue  thence,  to  enrich  our  poverty,  as  well  as  to  slake 
our  thirst?    One  only,  dearly  beloved  children ;  His, 
who  has  given  us  the  measure  whereby  the  depths  of 
His  own  Heart  can  be  fathomed,  and  its  various  gifte 
duly  valued.    When  He  said  to  us,  thai,  "  out  of  the 
abundance  of  the  Heart  the  mouth  speaketh"  (Matt, 
xii  84),  He  at  once  suggested  to  us  how  we  may  judge 
of  the  emotions  and  impulses  of  His  own  blessed 
Heart.    In  Him  there  was  no  deceit,  no  double  heart 
(Ps.  xi.  8,  in  corde  et  corde  locuti  sunt.    Ecdi.  i.  86, 
duplici  corde) ;  but  all  was  sincere  and  plain  and  just 
in  Him.    Then  out  of  His  Heart  He   uttered  Hw 
words  (Job,  viii.  10,  loquuntur  de  corde);  and  they 


-iW 


8*72 


ON   THE   UACRKD    ilEART. 


are  bnt  the  overflow  f>f  the  abandancM  treaaui-ed  th<  re. 
From  IlissecK  (I  lip«  you  d'siceini  to  Hi«  blesMd  Iloarti 
and  you  cannot  be  tlec«?ivfNl 

Then,  when  He  flwt  app<'ftr«  on  earth,  Ho  Hpoaks 
those  few  b'H  pregnant  words:     "Behead,  I  come." 
(Pi.  nx\x.  1 ;  Ihh.  X.  7,  9.)     They  were  the  utter- 
ance,  not  of  the  lip«,  but  of  the  heart ;  they  were  ex- 
pressed  by  the  first  breath  that  pa  seil   inarticuhUe 
from  His  humanity,  unheard  ivon  by  the  attentive  ear 
of  Maiy,  which  conveyed  thus  early  to  her    ininacu- 
late  heart  whatever  proceeded  from  His.  (Luc.  ii.  19, 
61.)    To  the  woi  d  which  hates  me,  those  words  say, 
to  u  people  that  know^   me  not,  to  a  generation  obsti- 
nate and  hardhearted  ;  to  eai  ^h,  m  king  with  sin  de- 
testable to  me ;    to  creation,  perverted  from  all  its 
beautiful  ends  and  enslaved  to  the  devil ;  to  a  barren 
desert  compared  with  my  Paradise  above ;  to  a  dismal 
land,  overspread  with  the  darkness  of  sin  and  the 
8ha<low  of  death;   to  direst  poverty,  distress,  cold, 
hunger,  and  toil;  to  contradiction,  ingratitude,  scorn, 
and    calumny;     to    disappointment,    abandonment, 
treachery,   and  denial;   to  ignominy,  pain,  anguish, 
and  agony;   to  buflfets,  scoui^es;  to  the  cross,  and 
death— O  man  I  for  tliy  sake,  "  behold,  I  come."  Will- 
ingly, aeliberately,  lovingly,  the  words  are  breathed 
from  that  infant  Heart,  the  first  incense  arising  from 
that  living  temple  of  divineat  charity.    And  must  not 
that  Heart  have  needs  been  full  of  mercy,  full  of  pity, 
aud  full  of  kindness,  to  have  given  them  utterance  ? 
Good  measure,  indeed,  and  well  pressed  down,  shaken 
together,  and  running  over,  was  that  charity,  which, 
in  His  very  incarnation,  was  poured  into  His  bosom. 


r 


ox  Tn«  •AtllKO  nUAWT. 


87  a 


ui-ed  th''*. 
Med  Iltorl, 

H«  epMlM 

d,  I  corae.** 
the  uttfr- 
y  were  ex- 
innrticulnto 
tteutive  ear 
er  iinmacU' 
Xuc  ii.  19, 
I  words  say, 
iition  obHti- 
nth  sin  de- 
rom  all  its 
to  a  barren 
to  a  dismal 
in  and  the 
stress,  cold, 
itude,  scorn, 
landonment, 
in,  anguish, 
D  cross,  and 
ome."  Will- 
re  breathed 
arising  from 
nd  must  not 
full  of  pity, 
L  utterance? 
>WD,  shaken 
krity,  which, 
His  bosom. 


ftoc  ▼!.  88.)  Vv'tm  words  Wgoi.  that  nverflow, 
which  ceMt-d  u(»  more,  but,  like  the  WHi^-rs  of  Jeruwi 
km,  whtob,  issuing  from  the  upper  fountain,  gMthertMl 
to  themselves  as  tht-y  passed,  those  of  the  lower  one, 
and  to  ran  on,  h  .11  increasing,  till  they  became  almost 
a  torrent ;  so  do  these  thoughts  of  charity  take  up  in 
thei  -'Mivtut  so  nmny  others,  spoken  nt  every  step  of 
our  ....  UedtMMUL.  •*  life  on  earth,  till  wo  are  ove^ 
powered  by  their  str<  njrth. 

Whence  proc   ded     lose  wordi  of  compassion,  in 
which  wi  all  hav.  such  a  pai-t;  "I  have  come  to  call 
not  the  just,  ^ut  liuuei-s  to  repentance ;  I  am  sent  to 
t1u»  sheep  that  have  pmshed  of  the  house  of  Israel; 
there  is  more  joy  in  Heaven  for  one  sinner  that  doth 
penance,  than  for  ninety-nine  just  that  need  not  pen- 
ance"? (Matt.  ix.  18;  x.  6;  Luc.  xv.  7).    From  what 
source. came  forth  the  words  which  He  spoke  to  Zac- 
cheus  or  to  Matthew,  the   publicans,  to   the  sinful 
womr  n  brought  before  Him  for  judgment,  to  the  par- 
alytic dinner  laid  at  His  feet,  to  Magdalene  of  her  own 
accord  prostrate  there :  words  of  gracious  self  invita- 
tion, or  of  a  generous  call  to  apostleship ;  words  of 
kind  forgiveness  of  past  sin,  and  encouragement  to 
persevere  in  grace ;  words  of  most  tender  and  soothing 
pardon,  full  of  charity,  that  filled  even  a  Pharisee's 
house  with  p.  sweeter  savor  of  that  unknown  virtue,  than 
did  the  broken  alabaster-box  of  spikenard  ?  (Luc.  xix. 
5 ;  Matt.  ix.  9 ;  Jo.  viii.  11 ;  Matt.  ix.  2 ;  Luc.  vii.  48.) 
Whence?  do  you  ask?    It  was  from  that  same  gentle 
and  loving  Heart,  which,  pure  and  holy  itself,  had 
ample  space  enough  in  it  to  hold  and  embrace  there, 
even  sinners,  and  the  whole  world  of  sin  ! 


T 

1 

I 


LiHiinWiiiirt  tfmm 


874 


ON   TIIK  MACRKO   liKAKT. 


Front  what  houi'co  came  out  thoiw  wonderful  wordii 
of  plMuiltig,  ••  Father,  furgive  them,  for  thoy  koovr  not 
what  they  do;"  or  that  iivreuteNt  of  forgiving  reproofn, 
"  DiMit  thott  bt'tray  tha  Son  of  man  with  n  kite  1"  or 
that  mildtwt  of  just  expoatulationa,  "  Many  good  works 
have  I  done ;  for  of  which  of  theae  works  do  you  stone 
ni«  ?"  or  that  sweetest  of  rebukes,  "  if  [[  have  spoken] 
well,  why  dost  thou  strike  me?"  or  that  almost  ma- 
ternal consolation,  "  weep  not  over  me,  ye  daughters 
of  Jerusalem,  but  over  yourselves  and  over  your  chil- 
dren;" or,  in  fine,  the  eloquence  of  that  silence,  which 
went  to  the  heart  more  than  words,  ns  He  stood  be- 
fore the  priests  or  Pilate ;  and  the  mute  power  'f  that 
look  which  spoke  to  the  heart  of  Peter  and  made  it 
overflow  in  tears?  (Luc.  xxiii.  24;  xxii.  48 ;  Jo.  x.  82; 
xviii.  82;  Luc.  xxiii.  28;  Matt.  xxvi.  SB;  xxvii.  14; 
Luc.  xxii.  61.)  Whence  ?  do  you  ask  again  ?  Oh  no  I 
Your  own  hearts  tell  you  better  than  our  words  can 
do,  that  all  these  and  many  other  such  words  come 
surging  forth  from,  not  a  well-spring,  but  an  ocean,  of 
love  for  man;  for  man  the  worthless,  for  man  the 
reprobate,  that  lies  deep  and  wide,  and  ever  heaving 
in  that  most  amiable  Heart  of  Jesas.  What  an  abun- 
dance, indeed,  and  a  superabundance  of  charity,  waa 
required,  to  give  ti*uth  and  reality  of  feeling  to  such 
words,  so  spoken  ns  they  were  1 

And  whence,  again,  dearly  beloved  children  in  Christ, 
eome  such  words  as  are  constantly  escaping  those  gen* 
tie  lips,  for  the  encouragement  and  consolation  of. 
loving  souls :  "  Come  unto  me  all  you  that  labor  and 
are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  refresh  you ;"  as  though 
His  own  travails  and  burdens,  the  cross  being  one, 


lorful  words 
i)y  kuovr  not 
ing  reproofii, 
n  kiMl"  or 
good  works 
[u  you  iton« 
ave  Hpoken] 
almuit  mA< 
'e  daughtera 
ir  your  chil* 
lenco,  which 
le  Htood  he- 
ower  f  that 
and  made  it 
I;  Jo.  X.  82; 
;  xxvli.  14; 
in?  Oh  no! 
1"  worda  can 
words  come 
an  ocean,  of 
or  man  the 
ver  heaving 
I  at  an  abun- 
shanty,  was 
ing  to  such 


en  in  Christ, 
g  those  gen* 
Dsolation  of. 
at  labor  and 
'  as  though 
>  being  on«, 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


It*  1 2  8 
»" 


III  32 


I.I 


lis 

(|4  0 


i.25 


1.4 


25 

I— 
1.6 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


s 


V 


'^•N 


lV 


-b 


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\\ 


^S'J*. 


C> 


■^.i;* 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 
(716)  872-4503 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institui  Canadian  de  micioreproductions  historiques 


mm 


ON   TnU  SACRlilD   HEART. 


876 


h 


were  not  enough  for  Him:  or,  "Learn  of  me,  because 
I  am  meek  and  humble  of  heart,  and  you  shall  find 
rest  to  your  souls ;"  as  if  persecution  and  humiliation 
gave  Him  joy,  because  they  procured  us  peace :  or,  "  I 
am  the  good  shepherd,  I  know  my  sheep  and  my  sheep 
know  me"  (Matt.  xi.  28,  29 ;  Jo.  x.  14) ;  as  if  forget- 
ting that  we  have  "  all  wandered  aa  sheep"  (Isa.  liii.  6 ; 
Ps.  cxviii.  176),  and  h&vo  forgotten  to  follow  Him  our 
Shepherd ;  or,  "  Cannot  you  drink  of  the  cup  whereof 
I  shall  drink"  (Mar  x.  38),  making  our  little  sorrows 
comparable,  and  associated,  to  His  own  ?  Oh  I  what 
unselfish  tenderness,  what  mild  considerateness  for  our 
weakness,  our  ui8coura£»ements,  our  continual  imper- 
fection I  And  whenct  )me  these  kindly  feelings,  this 
unpretending  love,  that  asks  no  return  but  our  own 
souls'  salvation  and  happiness  ?  From  nothing  ever 
created  on  earth,  save  Thy  benign  Heart,  O  Saviour 
of  man,  glowing  furnace  of  charity,  sending  forth  not 
sparks  merely  to  enkindle  oura,  so  cold  beside  Thine, 
but  a  calm  stream  of  heat  and  light,  to  warm  them 
throughout,  and  make  them  beam  with  celestial  joy. 
Who  will  repine,  should  bitterness  fill  his  heart,  if  only 
some  drops  of  the  balm,  into  which  gall  itself  is 
changed  in  Thine,  ovei-flow  to  mingle  with  it  ?  Who 
will  care  for  calumny,  reproach,  or  persecution,  so  long 
as  within  hearing  of  the  Master,  who  will  not  have 
His  scholars,  in  this  respect,  better  than  Himself,  but 
cheers  their  hearts,  if  they  follow  Him  in  meekness, 
with  the  sotmds  of  joy  that  break  forth  from  His? 

But  listen  now  to  other  words  which  come  from 
that  divine  breast,  on  which  reposes  a  witness  that 
will  not  let  one  of  them  escape.    Time  will  not  per- 


XMPMMpNP 


876 


ON   TIIK  BACHED   IIKAKT. 


1 
P 


mit  us  to  quote  them  ;  for  they  compose  the  whole  of 
that  unrivalled   address,   and   that  sublime   prayer, 
which  closed  our  Lord's  ministry  on  earth,  before  His 
pnssiou.     What  pure  and  unalloyed  love,  soft  and 
tender  enough  to  move  a  heart  of  stone,  comes  flowing 
forth  from  that  blessed  mouth  I     Not  an  allusion  to 
an  enemy,  but  in  accents  of  unresenting  kindness ;  not 
a  thought  for  self,  in  the  anxious  care  for  those  whom 
His  Father  has  given  Him.    What  a  wide  and  distant 
aim  of  love,  beyond  His  Apostles,  to  us,  and  all  who 
should  in  future  ages,  and  remote  regions,  come  to 
know  Him  I     What  close  and  eternal  and  mysterious 
compacts  of  love  are  established  between  the  believ- 
ing  soul  and  Himself;  and  through  Him  what  privi- 
leges of  familiarity  bestowed  even  with  the  unseen, 
but  no  longer  the  unknown  Father  1     What  riches  of 
light  and  guidance  secured  from  the  all-wise  Spirit,^ 
for  erring,  ignorant  maul     What  omnipotence  of 
prayer  bestowed  upon  the  feeblest  of  creatures,  with 
the  very  key  of  God's  treasures  put  into  his  hands  ! 
And  then  the  new  commandment,  the  very  charter  of 
His  new  covenant  with  man,  delivered,  and  what  is 
it?    Love;  "that  you  love  one  another,  as  I  have 
loved  you."     (John,  xiii.  84.)     And  with  these  fii-st 
words  begins  that  divine  discourse,  through  whicii 
burns  an  ardor  of  love  for  man,  the  more  intense,  thut 
it  is  the  more  calm,  and  the  moro  serene.    Peace  to 
the  heart  of  man,  amidst  the  storms  that  shake  it ; 
peace  to  his  soul  in  spite  of  the  passions  tfhat  assail  it ; 
peace  to  the  Church,  upon  the  ocean-world  that  tries 
its  utmost  to  wreck  it ;  peace  to  His  people  in  the 
-  midst  of  the  war  which  Satan  wages  perpetually 


k 


iiY^V  -miilhrnifiii     inrwriii. 


». II    I  WYlillfcii  (T«ir-irtllBri  fiiH  iiil'mMiritlt«»' 


ON  THE  SACRED   HEART. 


877 


D  the  whole  of 
hlime   j)r»yer, 
th,  before  Ilia 
ove,  soft  and 
comes  flowing 
an  allusion  to 
kindness;  not 
jr  those  whom 
de  and  distant 
19,  and  all  who 
5ioii8,  come  to 
nd  mysterious 
en  the  believ- 
im  what  privi- 
h  the  unseen, 
What  riches  of 
all-wise  Spirit, 
mnipotence  of 
creatures,  with 
ito  his  hands ! 
very  charter  of 
d,  and  what  is 
ber,  as  I  have 
7ith  these  fii-st 
through  which 
ire  intense,  thut 
ene.    Peace  to 

that  shake  it ; 
s  that  assail  it ; 
vorld  that  tries 

people  in  the 
jes  perpetually 


against  it :  such  is  the  great  gift  which  this  love  be- 
queaths.    And  whence  alone  can  it  come  ?    Through- 
out every  sentence   of  that   heavenly  discoui-se,  to 
which    angels  must   have    listened   with   wondering 
love,  there  are  diffused  a  charity  and  a  peace,  such  as 
nowhere  else  ever  existed,  so  combined,  except  in  the 
adorable  Heart  of  the  Incarnate  Word.     It  was,  in- 
deed, the  purest  ovei-flow  of  that  Heart,  which  ever 
yet  had  found  its  way  to  earth.     Gushing  forth  its 
streams  had  ever  been ;  incessant  its  supply  of  refresh- 
ment to  the  soul;  but  it  w^  >  d  seem  as  though,  now 
that  the  end  was  approaching.  He  found  it  still  so  full 
of  its  rich  and  sweet  abundance,  that  He  must  needs 
open  its  very  floodgates,  and  pour  it  out,  in  one  un- 
checked volume  of  burning  words  over  our  hearts, 
our  souls,  our  lives ;  over  the  Church,  and  over  the 
entire  world  itself.     Charity  and  peace,  the  union  of 
God  with  man,  and  of  man  with  His  God,  the  brother- 
hood of  Jesus  with  us,  the  bond  of  love  between 
God  and  His  Spoiue  on  earth ;  these  are  the  gifts 
which  the  lips  of  our  divine  Master  drew  forth  un- 
sparingly from  the  treasury  of  His  Heart  on  that 
memorable  night,  and  embodied  in  that  matchless  dis- 
course, sealed  by  a  prayer  bucI:   c.i  only  God  could 
utter  to  God,  which  has  done  more  to  raise  man's  dig- 
nity, and  ennoble  his  being  and  his  thoughts,  than  all 
the  treatises  of  ancieDt  philosophy,  or  the  efforts  of 
modern  civilization. 

And  yet  what  was  all  this  sublime  teaching  of  love 
but  merely  the  adornment  of  something  more  admira- 
ble still,  and  more  sublime ;  of  something  done  as  well 
as  spoken  ?    It  was  at  the  same  time,  and  at  the  same 


T 


878 


ox   TIIK  BACKED    IIKAKT. 


table,  tlmt  Jesus  took  bread  and  broke  it,  saying : 
"This  is  my  Body;"  took  the  cup  and  blessed  it,  say- 
ing :  "This  is  my  Blood."  The  Heart  of  Jesus  has 
given  us  love,  has  given  us  peace :  and  in  these  words 
It  gives  us  Itself.  It  was  that  Heart's  delight  to  be 
with  the  children  of  men  (Pro v.  viii.  21);  and  thus  is 
gained  its  object,  to  our  infinite  gain.  What  abund- 
ance of  divine  attributes  were  not  required  there  to 
prompt,  and  to  pronounce  efficaciously  these  words  I 
Unbounded  wisdom  to  devise  such  a  mo  le  of  uniting 
man  to  God,  his  Saviour ;  unfailing  foresight  to  know 
that  such  an  Institution,  if  made,  would  form  the  very 
life  of  the  spiritual  world,  in  the  midst  of  man's  cor- 
ruption ;  unerring  prudence,  to  temper  in  it  so  per- 
fectly the  seen  with  the  unseen,  as  to  fill  the  soul  with 
the  reality,  and  save  to  faith  its  merit;  unlimited 
knowledge  of  man,  his  nature,  his  wants,  his  feelings, 
bis  frailties,  his  dangers,  his  powei-s,  his  wishes,  such 
as  only  belongs  to  the  Creator,  and  the  Searcher  of 
the  reins  and  heart,  to  adapt  it  exn  ^ly  to  every  possi- 
ble desire  of  his  spirit,  and  every  .  .mginable  craving 
of  his  weakness ;  almighty  power  to  put  nature  in 
perpetual  bondage  to  grace,  so  that  to  the  end  of  time 
a  marvellous  combination  of  supernatural  effects 
should  take  place,  in  obedience  to  a  continuous  law, 
without  disturbing  or  ruffling  the  visible  current  of 
natural  things;  supreme  dominion  to  communicate 
and  delegate  to  man  the  exercise  of  this  veiy  act  of 
omnipotence ;  and,  above  all,  consummate  and  incom- 
prehensible goodness  and  love  to  set  all  the  rest  of 
these  divine  attributes  in  motion,  and  bind  them  in  one 
harmonious  action : — such  was  the  abundance  of  the 


-  ——  -—m — iTf  I  ifiiniiT  I  iiOTir  ii1if^ir-ii::. 


•iMilMMMHMlliiUiiMiiM^HMiUIWf^^ 


ke  it,  saying : 
blessed  it,  say- 
•  of  Jesus  baa 
n  these  words 
delight  to  be 
.) ;  and  thus  is 
What  abund- 
lired  there  to 
these  words  I 
lO'le  of  uniting 
sight  to  know 
form  the  very 
of  man's  coi^ 
in  it  so  per- 
l  the  soul  with 
rit;  unlimited 
bs,  his  feelings, 
is  wishes,  such 
le  Searcher  of 
to  every  possi- 
inable  craving 
put  nature  in 
be  end  of  time 
latnral  effects 
mtinuous  law, 
ble  current  of 
communicate 
18  vejy  act  of 
ite  and  incom- 
all  the  rest  of 
id  them  in  one 
udanco  of  the 


ON   TIIK   SACKED   HEART. 


879 


H«»ftrt  from  which  alone  the  mouth  of  Jesus  could  have 
spoken  those  words  of  life. 

To  them  we  owe  the  best  and  sweetest  privilege  of 
love,  that  of  being  able  to  draw  grace  and  life  from 
their  very  source,  by  receiving  Him  within  us  who 
contains  it  in  Himself.  There  the  heart  of  man  re- 
poses upon  the  Heart  of  his  Redeemer,  not  outwardly, 
a.s  John's  did,  but  in  closer  and  even  holier  union, 
when  his  frail  and  perishable  body  becomes  the  Teui- 
ple  of  God,  the  Tabernacle  of  his  Lord,  the  abode, 
however  humble,  of  his  Saviour.  Thence  his  very 
body  sucks  in  immortality,  from  that  imperishable 
Body  which  could  not  see  corruption ;  there  his 
soul  feasts  spiritually  up  :>n  the  virtues  and  excellences 
which  adorn  thti  Soul  of  God  made  man ;  and  there, 
more  wondeiful  still,  his  whole  being  becomes  invested 
with  the  dignity  and  glory  of  the  Divinity,  which 
dwells  within  him,  and  bestows  on  him  rights  and 
privileges  that  have  their  final  fulfilment  and  posses- 
sion in  Heaven.  How  truly,  indeed,  may  it  be  said  of 
man,  that  "  God  entertaineth  his  heart  with  delight  1" 

O  rich  abundance  of  the  Heart  of  Jesus,  whence  all 
these  good  things  issue,  through  His  unfailing  words ! 
Who  will  refnse  to  love  Thee,  and  to  adore  Thee,  O 
blessed  Saviour!  Who  will  not  own  that  in  that 
blessed  Heart  of  Thine,  are  centred  all  the  manifold 
forms  of  Thy  love  for  man,  from  Thy  cradle  to  Thy 
cross  ?  And  if  in  Thy  sacred  Word  even  the  heart  of 
man  receives  praise  from  God,  for  good  qualities 
amidst  its  8h«  eking  corrupiion,  how  much  more  must 
all  these  be  found  in  Thine,  sinless  and  untainted  by 
the  contact  of  evil !    Thy  heart,  then,  is  perfect  (Jos. 


MWMMNiife^tUMitiaH 


^^•^■Hi 


T 


880 


ON  TIIK   HACBED    IlKAUT. 


I 


xxiv.  14 ;  4  Rop.  xx.  8 ;  Is.  xxxviii.  8),  one  and  umli. 
vided  (1  Reg.  xii.  20 ;  Tm.  cxviii.  2  ;  Jer.  xxix.  80),  sim- 
ple (2  Reg.  XV.  11;  Job,  xxxiii.  3),  right  before  Ood 
(Ph.  XXXV.  11 ;  Ixxii.  1 ;  Prov.  xxvii.  21),  ntrong  {Vs. 
cxi.  8);  it  is  wise  (Eccles.  viii.  ii;  Eccli.  iii.  82),  pru- 
dent (Prov.  xviii.  15),  intelligent  (Deut.  xxix.  4), 
watchful  (Cant.  V.  2;  Eccli.  xxxix.  6),  profound  (Prov. 
XX.  6 ;  Ps.  Ixiii.  7) ;  it  is  great  (2  Mac.  ix.  14),  and  wide 
as  the  sands  of  the  sea  (Ps.  cxviii.  52 ;  Ixcli.  iv.  29 ; 
Cordis  latitudinem  quasi  arenam) ;  it  is  clean  (?«.  xxui. 

^-    ..  «v     •  ._i    /r>_    i..»..::     TO.   «     0\    mini 


iii.  87),  burning  (Jer.  xx.  9;  Luc.  xxiv.  82),  inflamed 
(Ps.  Ixxii.  21);  it  is  humble,  contrite  (Ps.  i.  19;  cviu. 
17);  ready  (Ps.  Ivi.  8;  cxi.  7),  joyful  (Prov.  xv.  18), 
mourning  (Lam.  i.  22),  constant  (1  Mac.  ix.  14),  mild  1 

(Matt.  xi.  29.)  .      ,        ., , 

But  enough,  dearly  beloved,  of  this  inexhaustible 
theme;  let  ua  come  to  ourselves.  If  the  Heart  of 
Jesus  has  been  thus  good  to  us,  if  we  have  tasted  its 
sweetness  in  so  many  ways,  in  compassion,  in  forgive- 
ness,  in  liberality,  in  kindness,  in  forbearance,  in  pa- 
tience  with  us,  shall  we  refuse  to  requite  It,  by  some 
mercifulness,  generosity  and  charity  on  our  side  ?  Let 
our  hearts  be  tender,  too,  and  loving,  and  full  of  affeo 
tion  to  others.  And  to  whom  more  than  to  those 
whom  the  Heart  of  Je*u8  particularly  loved  on  earth, 
and  recommended  to  our  carel  His  little  ones,  He 
will  tell  you,  are  starving,  are.  naked,  are  pining  with 
distress,  of  the  spirit  more  than  the  body ;  and,  in 
honor  of  His  adorable  Heart,  He  claims  from  you 


fcWTii  |i»in-MMl<Wairw 


iHMMbWMMweMIWOTW 


J  and  undl. 
ix.  80),  Him- 
before  Ood 
Htrong  (I'a. 
lii.  32),  pru- 
t.  xxix.  4), 
Dund  (Prov. 
I),  and  wide 
^cli.  iv.  29 ; 
m  (?«.  xxiii. 
c.  2),  pure 
loudid,  good 
,  holy  (Dan. 
2),  inflamed 
.  i.  10 ;  cviii. 
rov.  XV.  18), 
X.  14),  mild  1 

nexhaustible 
be  Heart  of 
ve  tasted  its 
n,  in  forgive- 
rance,  in  pa- 
It,  by  Borae 
ir  side  ?  Let 
Ifullofftffeo- 
lian  to  thoae 
ved  on  earth, 
ittle  ones.  He 
>  pining  with 
»ody ;  and,  in 
IU8  from  you 


ON   TIIK   MYSTKIllKS   OF  TIIK  HACRKD   IIKAKT.      8^1 

relief  and  miccor  for  them.  Honor  Him  thus,  and  you 
will  honor  Him  worthily,  for  you  will  honor  Him  by 
imitation. 


No.  II. 
m  the  ^pUxU$  o(  tbr  »mt&  i^nrt. 

It  has  been  most  becomingly  appointed  that  the 
general  collection,  on  behalf  of  the  Poor  School  Com- 
mittee, should  be  made  on  the  Feast  of  the  Most  Sacred 
Heart  of  Jesus.  And  this  selection  has  been  confirmed 
by  the  authoritative  and  paternal  sanction  of  our 
Sovereign  Pontiff,  who  has  granted  for  that  day  the 
Indulgences  announced  to  you  on  Sunday  last. 

And  in  truth,  dearly  beloved  in  Christ,  what  conld 
be  a  more  appropriate  day  for  a  general,  a  combined, 
a  Catholic  act  of  spiritual  mercy  and  charity  than  that 
on  which  the  Church  sums  up  and  symbolizes  in  the 
Heart  of  Jesus  all  that  He  has  done  and  suffered  for 
the  salvation  of  souls  ?  This,  indeed,  is  the  purpose 
and  the  feeling  of  this  festival,  lately  conceded  to  us 
in  this  country. 

Whatever  the  teaching  of  science  may  be,  it  will 
never  divest  mankind  of  the  idea,  or  the  instinct,  that 
the  heart  is  connected  with  our  inward  affections: 
that  it  is  warm  in  the  kind  and  loving,  and  cold  in 
the  selfish  and  ungenerous ;  that  it  is  hard  in  the  op- 
pressor, fluttering  in  the  anxious,  faint  in  the  coward- 


1 


tmmmmlfKtiif- 


882      ON   TTIK    MY(*TKRIES   OF  TlIK   «ACUKD    HEART. 


ly,  cnlm  in  the  virtuous.  To  apenk  of  tlie  heart  in  to 
•))ttuk  of  tiiM  passioiiN,  thu  tiinotion*!,  the  Hyniptithii'H  of 
man ;  it  euihotliei!  our  ideas  of  teml«»rne«.«,  of  conipns- 
»ion,  of  gentk'iu'ss,  of  forgivonesn,  of  long-Huflfuring, 
aixl  of  every  sweet  variety  of  love.  For  there  the 
child,  the  parent,  the  npouMo,  the  friend,  finds  his  spe* 
cific  kind  of  holy  aftection.  It  is  the  well-spring 
whence  they  all  gush  out,  and  nmuifest  themselves  in 
action  and  in  word :  "  for  out  of  the  -ibundance  of  the 
lienrt  tlie  mouth  speaketh."  (Matt.  xii.  24.)  And  if 
that  abundance  is  to  be  measured  by  that  which  flows 
abroad,  what  shall  we  find  of  treasured  bounty,  mercy, 
^race,  and  love,  in  the  8acred  Heart  of  Hiiu  whose 
love  redeemed  uh,  and  continues  to  enrich  us  with 
gifts  of  eternal  value  ?  Who  shall  presume  to  fathom 
or  to  measure  this  abyss  of  love  ?  Who  shall  "  be 
able  to  comprehend  what  is  the  breadth,  and  length, 
and  height,  and  depth"  of  this  "charity  of  Christ, 
which  surpasseth  all  knowledge"?  (Ephes.  iii.  18,  19.) 
kSo  soon  as  the  Word  Incarnate  appeared  on  earth, 
that  blessed  Heart  began  to  beat  in  love,  and  gave  at 
every  pulse  a  homage  to  God,  more  valuable  and  more 
acceptable  than  that  of  the  celestial  spheres,  moving 
in  their  order  and  beauty.  And  all  this  was  given 
up  at  once  to  man.  To  whatever  manifestation  of 
Godlike  and  jJivine  excellence  It  impelled  Him, 
whether  to  mighty  works  or  to  lowly  disguises, 
whether  to  glorious  triumphs,  or  to  abject  suflfering, 
all,  all  was  for  us ;  ever  varying,  ever  inexhaustible, 
ever  unthought  of,  workings  of  that  one  principle  of 
love ;  fruit  of  eveiy  sweetness  springing  from  one 
Tree  of  Life. 


spsc; 


-*»■ 


9   HEART. 

the  heart  in  to 

(lynjpathieH  of 
efl.«,  of  compjuh 

long-Huflfering, 
For  tlioro  the 
,  finds  hill  Rpe* 
\\vi  well««priiig 

themselves  ia 
undanee  of  the 

24.)  Ami  if 
at  which  flows 
bounty,  mercy, 
of  Him  whose 
nrich  us  with 
ume  to  fathom 
'ho  shall  "be 
h,  and  length, 
rity  of  Christ, 
les.  iii.  18,  19.) 
ired  on  earth, 
3,  and  gave  at 
able  and  more 
heres,  moving 
this  was  given 
anifestation  of 
mpelled  Him, 
vly  disguises, 
tject  suffering, 

inexhaustible, 
le  principle  of 
ing  fi'om  one 


OK   TIIK   MYBTKRIM   Or  TlIK  HACIIKD   IlKAJH*.      »18S 

Through  the  now  closing  cycle  of  our  annual  f»'sti- 
vaU,  we  have  contemphited  the  love  of  Jt'su«»  for  man, 
step  by  step  and  form  by  f«)rm.  First  it  was  shrouded 
in  the  charms,  and  almost  the  blandishments  of  in* 
fancy;  it  was  winning;  it  was  enticing:  it  was  soften- 
ing; but  seemed  almost  inactive.  We  contemplated 
Him  as  fair,  gentle,  annable;  His  infant  glance,  Hi» 
speechless  lips,  His  helpless  frame  appealed  with  a 
natural  eloquence  to  our  hearts,  when  we  remembered 
that,  inert  as  tliey  apjieared  in  our  regard,  they  were, 
in  Him,  but  a  disguise  that  covered  a  boundless  love 
for  man. 

Then  we  approached  Him,  as  He  trod  the  path  of 
labor,  pain,  and  sorrow:  we  saw  hands  hardened  with 
toil,  and  brow  bedewed  with  tho  sweat  of  Adam's 
curse ;  a  frame  attenuated  with  long  fasting  in  a 
desert,  feet  wearied  with  rough  travel,  a  head  unrested 
by  a  pillow,  unsheltered  by  a  roof.  Then  came  before 
us  a  scene  of  suffering  more  systematic,  more  univer- 
sal, more  intense :  when  pain  and  torture  were  not 
consequences  of  actions  and  journeyings  and  priva- 
tions, undertaken  or  borne  for  love ;  but  were  direct 
inflictions  coveted  and  loved  on  its  account.  Here 
we  saw  anguish  and  agony,  and  the  rending  of  every 
tie  of  life,  strong  or  tender,  of  that  which  breaks  only 
with  excruciating  violence,  as  of  that  which  easily 
Huaps,  but  with  exquisite  torture ;  filial  love,  brotherly 
affection,  fatherly  tenderness,  all  rudely  torn  in  His 
bosom ;  and  the  bonds  of  gratitude,  reverence,  almost 
adoration  of  a  fickle  people,  sundered  from  His  still 
loving  Heart.  And  in  His  body  we  contemplate  the 
head  crowned  with  thorns,  the  hands  and  feet  trans- 


r 


J 


384      OM  TIIK   JIYHTKHIKH  OK  TIIK  HACIIKD    IIKAIlT. 

ilx«d,  the  body  ^t\n\m\  «n<l  livid  witli  IwUei,  every 
limh  <iuiverinpf  with  corivulnion. 

At  h-n^th  we  cntn«^  to  «*'«  Him  \nu-^*  through  His 
rocky  Hi'puU'hre,  ro«liiuit  with  ■plendor;  dart  like  n 
hwftvonly  mutoor  from  plnco  to  plnce,  penotmto  the 
cloaed  doom,  cheer  niid  console?  Hiii  disciples ;  nn<l  thou 
MCfnd  to  His  Fftthor'rt  llij^ht  Hiind,  amidst  angelic 
greetings.  And  last  of  all  w«  meet  Him,  now  a«  »  en, 
in  the  wondciful  Mystery  of  Love,  in  which  all  the 
nmrvcls  of  love  displayed  in  His  Life  are  conccn* 
trated;  from  the  lowliness  of  the  Infant,  to  the 
immolation  of  the  Victim,  and  the  glorification  of 
Humanity  — in    the    Eucharist,   ever    blessed,   ever 

adorable. 

And  while  we  follow  Him  thus,  as  a  giant,  exultant 
through  His  career  of  love,  all  that  is  external  and 
visible  changing  and  shifting  forms;  what  gives  to 
the  whole  unity  and  identity;  what  brings  Him  be- 
fore us  as  the  same   yesterday  and  today;   where 
resides  the  unchanging  principle  of  all  these  phases  of 
His  existence  in  our  lower  firmament  ?     One  Heart, 
unchangeable  within   that  kingly  abode,  continued 
from  its  first  beat  to  throb  with  unvarying  charity, 
sweet  yet  strong,  gentle   yet  irresistible.     It  gave 
equal  life,  vigor,  and  intensity  to  every  stage  and  state 
of  His  being.    It  beat  as  steadily  in  the  Child  as  ia 
the  Man ;  in  the  Muuger  as  on  the  Cross,  when  Maiy 
felt  It  gently  knock  against  her  own  Heart,  as  when 
John  leaning  on  His  bosom  felt  Its  throes  of  life,  at 
His  last  feast.     It  is  this  that  binds  together  the 
various  aspects  of  His  human  form ;  the  infant's  radi- 
ant eye,  the  youth's  toiling  hand,  the  Master's  win- 


iroriiutittwi 


atMM 


•mhimmm 


IIKAUT. 

Innlici,  every 

tlij'ough  His 
;  dart  like  ft 
penotmte  the 
lea ;  and  tlxMi 
midit  angclio 
,  now  a«  t  ftn, 
vhich  all  the 
a  are  concen* 
ttfant,  to  the 
loriflcation  of 
blessed,    ever 

riant,  exultant 
external  and 
vhat  gives  to 
ings  Him  bo- 
oday ;   where 
hese  phases  of 
t     One  Heart, 
do,   continued 
trying  charity, 
ble.     It  gave 
itage  and  state 
he  Child  as  in 
88,  when  Mary 
Heart,  as  when 
Itroes  of  life,  at 
I  together  the 
le  infant's  radi* 
Master's  win- 


o!f  Tiir.  MTsmnira  or  Trrr  SAcnitP  mcAirr.    88ft 

ning  lip«,  the  Holocaust's  wreathed  hea<l.  To  each  in 
its  turn  the  Heart  nent  forth  its  streams  of  life,  with 
Him  but  streams  of  I/)ve.  And  to  each  ftinction  of 
charity  It  administered  its  fitting  ngfnt:  from  that 
Heart  were  furnished  those  teai-s  whtrewith  He  wept 
over  the  unrepenting ;  that  mysterious  dew  which 
started  from  His  pores  as  Ho  lay  prostrate  in  Oeth. 
gemsni ;  that  full  flow  of  sacred  Blood,  which  poured 
out  from  the  fi)ur  great  wounds  ori  Calvary;  that 
mystical  stream  of  regeneration  whicli  issued  from 
His  blessed  side,  pierced  by  the  lancd.  An<l  His 
(ieoth  even,  what  was  it,  but  the  Vfiy  breaking  and 
bursting  of  the  sacred  vessel  itself,  that  not  one 
drop  of  its  divine  treasure  might  be  withhold  from 

inant  n       j 

Then,  aJUuredly  in  that  Heart  we  may  see  collected, 
and  presented,  as  in  one  holy  symbol,  the  immensity 
of  the  love  of  Jesus  for  us;  and  sum  up  in  this  one 
festival— the  epilogue  of  our  fuller  commemorations- 
all  that  He  hath  suffered  and  done  for  us  poor  sinnei-s, 
tliat  we  might  be  saved.     For  here,  as  in  a  mirror 
which  concentrates  the  rays  from  every  side,  we  look 
npon  all  united  in  a  smaller  space,  though  not  for  that 
less  clear  and  bright.     Or  we  may  consider  it  as  a 
deep  and  fathomless  gulf  of  pure  and  stillest  water, 
which,  while  it  is  in  its  depths  unsearchable,  yet  re- 
flects for  that  more  accurately  all  that  has  grown, 
from  its  fertilizing  power,  around  it.     And  in  either, 
he  who  gazes  shall  not  fail  there  to  see  himseU",  as  the 
first  and  clearest  object.    Yes,  there  he  truly  is,  in  the 
veiy  Heart  of  Jesus !     From  whatever  side  any  of  us 
looks  into  it,  in  the  midst  of  its  sweetnesses,  its  mercies, 

M 


r 


88G      ON   THE  MYSTERIES  OF  TIIK  SACRED    HEART. 


its  pangs,  its  agonies,  lie  beholds  himself  present; 
ever  there,  thought  of,  cared  for,  loved  so  tenderly 
and  so  prominently  as  to  be  the  first  seen  1  Then, 
who  will  not  love  and  adore  that  Sacred  Heart,  so  full 
of  us,  so  rich  for  us  I  Fountain  of  redemption,  source 
of  salvation,  spring  of  life,  abyss  of  love  I  Heart  so 
pure,  so  sinless,  so  holy ;  so  gentle,  so  meek,  and  so  be* 
nign ;  so  spaiing,  so  merciful,  so  gracious ;  ao  tender, 
so  loving,  80  endearing ;  so  noble,  so  generous,  so  mag« 
nificent ;  so  royal,  so  heavenly,  so  divine !  Seat  and 
throne  of  every  virtue,  of  every  excellent  quality,  of 
every  sublimest  attribute  i  All  hail  1  in  this  our  fes- 
tival of  charity,  be  to  us  and  our  little  ones,  a  shicdd, 
a  shelter,  and  a  home ! 

For,  dearly  beloved  in  Chiist  Jesus,  where  could  we 
have  found  a  truer  model,  or  a  higher  pnnciple,  on 
which  to  frame  and  conduct  the  education  of  our  chil- 
dren, than  this  all-holy  and  most  innocent  Heart, 
which,  from  childhood  upwards,  ever  throbbed  in  love 
to  God  and  man?  Who  would  not  rejoice  to  see 
these  little  ones  grow  up,  each  to  be  "  a  man  according 
to  God's  own  Heart"?  And  what  is  Catholic  educa- 
tion, but  a  striving  aftor  this  moulding  of  the  yet  len- 
der and  pliant  heart  to  this  heavenly  form  ?  What 
surer  pledge  of  future  virtue  couid  you  desire,  than  to 
see  the  pupils  of  your  schools  trained  in  that  higher 
school  of  love,  whereof  the  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus  is 
the  type ;  in  the  docility  and  meekness,  the  obedience 
and  industry,  the  piety  and  innocence  which  it  repre- 
sents? 

Take  heart  then,  this  day,  and  give  as  you  wish 
God  to  requite  you.    How  powerful,  how  efficacious, 


D    HEART. 

mself  present; 
ed  so  tenderly 
,  seen!  Then, 
1  Heart,  so  full 
imption,  source 
ve  I  Heart  so 
eek,  and  so  be* 
3U8 ;  80  tender, 
lerous,  so  mag« 
ae!  Seat  and 
ent  quality,  of 
Q  this  our  fea- 
ones,  a  sbitdd, 

vhere  could  we 
r  pnnciple,  on 
ion  of  our  chil- 
inocent  Heart, 
robbed  in  love 
rejoice  to  see 
man  according 
Catholic  educa- 
of  the  yet  '.,en- 
form  ?  What 
desire,  than  to 
in  that  higher 
art  of  Jesus  is 
,  the  obedience 
which  it  repre- 

e  as  you  wish 
low  efficacious, 


Mgi.  ■  ii0g0nmmm/ii9'^'^  *!>■  I  t'mW 


ON  TnE  MYSTERIES  OF  THE  SACRED  HEART.       387 

will  the  prnyei-a  of  so  many  thousands  of  Christ's  favor- 
ites be,  wnnnly  sent  up  for  you!     How  sv/eet  the 
offering  of  their  holy  communion !     How,  if  we  may 
so  Bpeak,  the  Lamb  of  God  will  love  to  see  Himself 
led  by  the  innocent  and  guileless,  with  the  garlands  of 
simple  affection  which  they  throw  about  Him,  to  the 
very  foot  of  the  Throne,  round  which  the  martyred 
children  of  Bethlehem  play  (Hymn  for  H.  Innocents) ; 
and  there,  with  unspotted  hands,  beg  acceptance  of 
Him,  for  you  their  benefactors!     The  Church,  too, 
unlocks  the  treasury  which  she  keeps  in  that  ever 
inexhaustible  Heart,  and  offers  you  her  spiritual  gifts, 
as  your  future  pledge  and  present  reward.    Make, 
then,  this  day  doubly  holy,  doubly  consecrated.    Honor 
with  devotion  the  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus ;  imitate  in 
charity  the  love  which  It  bore  you.     Charity  for  man 
is  the  special  characteristic  virtue  of  the  feast,  spiritual 
charity ;  love  for  man,  but  love  for  his  soul.     And,  be 
assured,  ^hat  as  you  cannot  better  practise  this,  than 
by  exerting  yourselves,  and  making  sacrifices,  to  pro- 
cure the  blessings  of  a  sound  religious  education  for 
your  poorer  brethren,  so  your  alms  will  be  cast  this 
day  iuto  a  better  treasury  than  that  of  the  temple 
built  with  hands;  into  the  Temple  of  the  heavenly 
Jerusalem,  which  is  "the  Lsmb"  (Apoc.  xxi.  22), 
whose  treasury  of  grace  is  His  adorable  Heart.    You 
will  not  merely  be  "shutting  up  your  alms  in  the 
heart  of  the  poor"  (Ecclus.  xxix.  15),  as  the  Old  Tes- 
tament exhorts  you ;  but,  you  will  at  the  same  time 
be  placing  them  in  the  Heart  of  the  Most  rich,  and 
the  Most  beautiful,  though  He,  too,  became  poor  for 
love.    Yea,  you  will  be  casting  them  into  that  glowing 


■■MMHSi 


888  ON   TUB   FIRK  OF  THE  SACKED   }IEABT. 

furaace  of  love,  where  all  is  purified,  and  comes  forth 
again,  no  longer  dross,  but  that  refined  and  sterluig 
gold,  from  which  alone  crowns  of  bliss  and  glory  are 
made  for  the  heads,  phials  of  sweet  odor  ibr  the  hands 
of  Chaity's  Saints  in  Heaven. 


No.  111. 
.    m  tfte  lire  of  Vxt  famfl  iart. 

Dearly  beloved  children  in  Christ,— There  is  hard- 
ly  any  topic  more  constantly  kept  before  your  mind, 
0*1-  more  frequently  pressed  on  your  attention,  than 
the  education  of  the  poor.    In  one  form  or  another, 
we  may  say  that  "the  poor  ye  have  always  with 
vou."     (Matt.  xxvi.  11.)    Whether  it  be  the  orphan, 
ov  the  youthful  transgressor,  or  the  inmate  of  the 
poor-house,  or  simply  the  child  that  lives  exposed  to 
the  seduction  of  a  false  religious  training,  or  to  the 
temptations  of  idleness  and  ignorance,  scarcely  a  day 
passes,  but  some  institution  for  the  averting  or  miti- 
gating  of  these  evils  and  perils  is  brought  before  your 
notice,  aa  requiring  your  charitable  aid. 

But  the  day  on  which  this  our  pastoral  address 
will  be  read  to  you,  merges  in  its  wider  and  deeper 
claims  all  other  specific  demands.  It  is  the  feast  of 
charity  itself,  of  unrestricted  charity  for  our  poor 

children.  . 

It  is  the  feast  of  charity,  not  corporal  but  spu-itual, 


ijMmammamHimMlf»i<>u«iiim:n  'iij]i>inifcnii  imim-wH'Mm'''^''*": 


r 


BT. 

;omes  forth 
md  sterling 
d  glory  are 
»r  the  hands 


ON   THE   FIRE  OF   TIIE  SACRED   HEART. 


389 


irt. 

here  ia  hard- 
your  mind, 
ention,  than 
or  another, 
always  with 
5  the  orphan, 
mate  of  the 
a  exposed  to 
ng,  or  to  the 
larcely  a  day 
rting  or  miti- 
t  before  your 

toral  address 
I-  and  deeper 
\  the  feast  of 
for  our  poor 

but  spiritaal, 


directed  to  feed,  to  refresh,  to  clothe,  to  free,  and  to 
elevate  the  soul,  by  the  bread  of  God's  word  (Matt, 
iv.  4),  the  waters  of  saving  wisdom  (Ecclus.  xv.  8), 
the  raiment  of  heavenly  grace  (Gal.  iv.  3),  the  liberty 
which  Christ  has  purchased  for  us,  from  the  slavery  of 
sin  and  corruption.     (Luke,  xv.  22.) 

It  is  the  feast  of  charity,  univei-sal  and  thoroughly 
Catholic ;  not  confined  by  ♦^^he  limits  of  our  respective 
dioceses,  nor  administered  by  local  commissions,  nor 
distributed  on  a  narrow  scale  of  comparison.  Like 
the  springs,  which,  rising  in  many  difi'erent  and  dis- 
tant spots,  unite  their  waters  into  streams,  that  con- 
verge and  flow  into  one  common  reservoir,  whence 
those  waters  are  again  subdivided  and  beneficently 
redist.  ibuted,  so  do  the  many  sources  of  charity 
through  our  island  this  day  contribute  their  shares 
to  one  general  and  united  treasury,  from  which  an 
impartial  division  is  made,  without  regard  of  place, 
according  to  the  urgency  of  particular  claims.  And 
this  distribution,  as  you  know,  is  under  the  care  of 
our  excellent  Poor  School  Committee,  whose  long, 
patient,  and  conscientious  administration  cf  the  fund 
thus  collected  and  confided  to  its  management,  is  be- 
yond all  praise. 

And  finally,  this  is  the  special  feast  of  charity,  in 
the  symbol  and  patronage  under  which  this  general 
Bubscription  is  raised,  those  of  the  Sacred  and  Adora- 
ble Heart  of  our  divine  Redeemer.  For  this  is  the 
seat  of  that  sublime  charity  which  brought  Him  from 
Heaven,  to  become  man  for  our  salvation ;  this  is 
the  link  of  brotherly  love  which  made  Him  prefer 
kindred  with  us,  to  allianco  with  angelic  spirits ;  this 


T 


r 


^ 


890 


ON  THK   FIUIC  OF  TIIK  SAOIIKD  HEART. 


19  the  fountftin  wlience  flowed  the  iti-oam  of  life, 
outpoured  for  the  clonnsing  of  m\  nnd  the  propitia- 
tion  of  the  divine  wrath  ;  tliin  is  the  wine-press  which 
furnishes  with  inexhaustible  abundance,  the  wine  to 
the  chalice  of  salvation,  on  the  Table  of  His  house,  the 

Church.  ♦ 

Every  form  of  love,  of  benignity,  of  kindness,  of 
meekness,  of  long  suffering,  and  of  generosity ;  in  giv- 
ing,  in  pordoning,  in  rewarding ;  whensoever,  where- 
soever, and  towards  whomsoever  displayed,  is  found 
naturally  in  that  Heort,  which,  oa  in  other  men,  so  in 
the  l.eat  and  holiest  of  men,  is  the  very  abode  of  every 
good  and  perfect  emotion.  And  what  shall  we,  or 
•what  will  the  world  gain,  from  this  commemoration 
of  BO  sweet  and  so  sublime  a  symbol,  if  it  remain  no 
more  than  such  to  us,  not  a  living,  warm  and  throb- 
bing reality  in  which  we  take  our  share,  not  only  for 
oui-selves,  but  for  many  others. 

^^Nonne  eor  nostrum  ardsna  erat  in  nohiaf^ — 
"  Was  not  our  heart  burning  within  ns,  whilst  He 
apoke  on  the  way  1"  (Luke,  xxiv.  82)  said  the  disci- 
pies,  whom  Jesus  overtook,  on  the  day  of  His  resui'- 

rection.  ^  >  ^   - 

To  be  with  Him,  to  hear  Him  speak,  to  dnnk  in 
His  wisdom  and  imbibe  His  sentiments;  to  bring,  or 
have  brought  their  hearts  into  consonance  and  harmony 
with  Hia  Heort,  set  theirs  on  fire,  inflamed  them  with 
•imilar  offection ;  so  that  they  immediately  returned 
homo,  to  communicate  their  burning  thoughts  to  their 

brethren. 

For,  what  else  was  it  thot  set  their  hearts  a-burn- 
ing,  but  that  fire  of  which  Our  Lord  had  long  before 


« 


■iMMi 


UI(Wfc»wWWi'IWI  IIIWIlBHWWWW^I 


>iM«—ininiii  mmmmmmnmj  ■wwasjutw' 


r 


EART. 

i'oatn  of  life, 
the  propitia- 
le-press  which 
,  the  wine  to 
[lis  house,  the 

•  kindness,  of 
rosity ;  in  giv^ 
soever,  where- 
lyed,  is  found 
her  men,  so  in 
bode  of  every 
,  shall  we,  or 
)mniemoratioa 
f  it  remain  no 
ra  and  throb* 
e,  not  only  for 

in  nobiaf^ — 

us,  whilst  He 

said  the  disci- 

r  of  His  resai^ 

k,  to  drink  in 
B ;  to  bring,  or 
e  and  harmony 
aed  them  with 
lately  returned 
raghts  to  their 

hearts  a-burn- 
lad  long  before 


ON   TMK   FIRE   OF  TIIK   RACRED   IIKART. 


891 


spoken,  when  Ho  said  :  "  I  have  come  to  cast  fire  upon 
earth,  and  what  will  I  but  that  it  be  kindled  ?"  (lb. 
xii.  49.)     And  what  was  this  fire  ? 

Not  that  flume  of  insurrection  and  disloyalty,  which 
made  all  pretendei-s  of  the  Messiahship  firebrands,  men 
to  be  pui-sued  witli  the  sword,  into  the  wilderness. 
(Matt.  xxiv.  2G.)  For  even  His  enemies,  when  they 
sought  for  proof  of  His  rivalry  to  Csesar,  did  not  think 
of  referring  to  this  expression. 

Not  the  heartburnings  and  jealousies  which  charac- 
terized the  religious  and  political  parties  in  the  Jewish 
people,  at  that  period.  He  had  naught  to  do  with 
Pharisee  or  Sadducee,  Essenian  or  Herodian,  who 
hated  one  another  "  with  perfect  hatred."  (Ps.  cxxxviii. 
22.) 

Not  with  the  fiery  zeal  of  scribes  and  priests,  who 
scorned  the  Gentile,  as  the  Greek  did  the  barbarian, 
and  scrupled  not  to  shed  the  innocent  blood  of  their 
holiest  Lord,  from  fear  that  the  prerogatives  of  their 
class  and  nation  should  be  injured  through  Him.  (Jo. 
xi.  48.) 

Not  even  that  more  specious  but  mistaken  ardor  of 
His  own  disciples,  which  would  have  brought  down 
fire  from  Heaven  to  destroy  His  enemies  and  persecu- 
toiu  (Luke,  ix.  54.)  For  He  said  to  them :  "  Ye  know 
not  of  what  Spirit  ye  are."  . 

Now,  by  this  rebuke,  He  seemed  to  warn  and  re- 
mind them,  that  aa  yet  they  were  not  of  that  Spirit 
who  was  to  desce*\d,  indeed,  in  flakes  of  fire,  but  soft 
and  lambent  as  iist  soothing  and  healing  tongue ;  sep- 
arate, so  as  to  be  carried  away  by  each  Apostle  of 
faith  and  love  to  his  own  allotted  province ;  parted 


mmwiTrr'Ti"'*^''^''--''''''^'^*'^'''^'"*^*^'^"^ 


»02 


oN   THE   FIRE   OF  THE   8ACRKD   HEAUT. 


and  cloven,  like  the  root  from  which  have  to  upring 
many  plants,  each  fertile  and  pregnant  with  further, 
and  endless,  and  inexhaustible  life. 

A:id  well  He  added  to  His  reproof:  "The  Son  of 
man  came  no*  to  destroy  souls,  but  to  save."  (v.  56.) 
Yes,  this  fire  of  love,  this  burning,  bright,  inextin- 
guishable, and  unconsuming  flame  of  Pentecost,  was 
the  fire  which  Jesus  scattered  over  the  earth,  from 
the  wings  of  the  dove-like  Paraclete,  and  which  He 
80  earnestly  desired  should  everywhere  be  kindled. 
It  was  a  fire  that  would  save,  not  destroy,  souls. 

And  what  was  the  first  and  natural  impulse  of  this 
new  motive  power  to  the  hearts  on  which  it  seized  ? 
To  go  forth  instantly  and  communicate  it  to  othere. 
As  the  two  disciples  whose  hearts  felt  burning  at 
Emmaus,  could  not  remain  quiet  ct  their  journey's  end, 
but  must  needs  return  back,  impelled  irresistibly  by 
the  flame  kindled  within  them,  to  set  others  on  fire 
with  their  own  joy  and  love,  so  rushed  the  apostles 
amidst  the  crowd,  to  kindle  in  thousands  the  fire 
which  the  Holy  Spirit  had  just  cast  upon  themselves. 
And  as  fire,  sometimes  creeping  silently  along,  some- 
times bounding  from  fuel  to  fuel  that  it  meets,  like  a 
quick  and  active  thing,  makes  it  burn  and  blaze,  till 
it  create  a  wide-spread  conflagration,  so  did  the  sparks 
fly  from  heart  to  heart  that  day  in  Jerusalem,  till  the 
few  tongues  of  fire  which  had  descended  in  the  moin- 
ing.  had  multiplied  before  evening,  or  had  been  divi^led 
into  three  thousand  separate  flames.    For  such  was 
the  number  added  to  the  Church  that  .'ay.    (Acts,  ii. 

41.) 

And  how,  dearly  beloved  children,  was  the  wonder- 


re  to  opting 
vith  further, 

"The  Son  of 
c"  (v.  56.) 
gilt,  iuextiu- 
ijntecost,  wft3 

earth,  from 
i  which  He 

be  kindled. 
f,  soula. 
pulse  of  this 
3h  it  seized  ? 
it  to  others. 
t  burning  at 
journey's  end, 
rresistibly  by 
thers  on  fire 

the  apostles 
ands  the  fire 
u  themselves. 
'  along,  some- 
meets,  like  a 
md  blaze,  till 
iid  the  sparks 
salem,  till  the 
I  in  the  morri- 
1  been  divi^led 
For  such  was 
ay.    (Acts,  ii. 

»  the  wonder- 


ox  THE   FIHE  OF   THE  SACRED   IIEAUf. 


898 


ful  propagation  and  enkindling  of  the  fire  thus  cant  on 
earth  accomplished?  Ah  1  by  how  simple,  how 
homely  a  process  !  Not  by  a  miracle,  as  later,  at  the 
Beautiful  Gate  of  the  Temple,  when  the  lame  man 
was  healed  (lb.  iii.) ;  not  by  an  exercise  of  majestic 
and  judicial  authority,  such  as  punished  Anania-s  and 
his  wife.  (lb.  v.)  For  though  the  gift  of  tongues 
attracted,  amazed  and  overawed  the  multitude,  it  did 
not  convert  them,  but  rather  provoked  jeere  and 
scoffs. 

No  I  it  was  by  simple  instruction,  we  almost  said,  by 
education.  It  was  not  till  Peter  had  spoken  that  the 
assembly  was  moved  to  compunction,  to  the  profes* 
sion  of  the  truth,  and  to  virtuous  life,  in  communion 
with  the  almost  unknown  and  calumniated  Church  of 
Christ. 

And  now  let  us  trace  the  coui-se  of  this  most  won- 
derful and  mysterious  fire,  which  hjis  descended  as  an 
inheritance  even  to  us.     It  came  from  Heaven :  it  had 
existed  there  from  all  eternity,  its  symbol,  the  Holy 
Spirit,  its  reality,  the  bond  of  unity  in  the  Godhead  ; 
for  this  is  charity.     Rays  or  reflections  of  it  had 
reached  earth :   its  substance  never.    The  "  lamp  of 
fire  "  which  passed  between  Abraham's  victims  (Gen. 
XV.  17) ;  the  flame  which,  breaking  out  from  the  rock, 
consumed  Gideon's  holocaust  (Jnd.  vi.  21);  the  "fire 
of  the  Lord "  which,  falling,  swallowed  up  not  only 
the  victim,  but  the  altar  of  Elias's  offering  (3  Reg. 
xviii.  38) ;  in  fine,  that  miraculous  fire  which  was  ob- 
tained from  the  sediment  of  th^  well  in  which  the 
perpetual  fire  of  the  temple  had  been  hidden,  and 
kindled  itself  anew  upon  the  whole-burnt  sacrifice  of 


■StrVTSRSW 'f  t-i'T^  ■ 


r 


804        ox  TiiK  niiK  or  the  sacrkd  hkart. 

Qod'8  people,  redeemed  from  captivity  (2  Mac.  i.  22) ; 
these,  and  other  symbolical  interpoeitions  of  a  celestinl 
fire  in  ancient  nacriflces,  were  a  foreshadowing  of  that 
divine  flame  which  was  to  be  steadily  and  actively  in 
operation  after  the  figurative  sacrifl-esof  the  older  dis- 
pensation should  have  given  way  to  the  real  and  clean 
oblation  of  the  New  Law. 

For,  in  fact,  to  bring  down  to  earth  that  really 
heavenly  lovu,  it  required,  not  an  angel  or  a  burning 
seraph,  but  One  in  whom  it  lived,  and  from  whom  »t 
could  not  depart,  even  if  He  seemed  to  quit  the  etur- 
nal  throne  to  which  it  bound  Him  in  indissoluble  union. 
And  hence  the  only  begotten  and  co-equal  Son  of  the 
Father  declared,  "  Sacrifice  and  oblation  Thou  didst 
not  desire,  then,  said  I,  behold  I  come:'  (Ps.  xxxix.  8.) 
And  to  this  declaration  seems  naturally  to  attach  itself 
the  expression  on  which  we  have  been  commenting : 
"  I  have  oome." 

First,  He  promised,  or  offered  to  come,  to  au^rsede 
those  oblations  which  the  typical  fire  consumed.  Then 
He  proclaims  to  us  that  He  has  come,  the  living,  lov- 
ing and  enduring  Victim,  to  bring  down  the  real 
warmth,  light,  and  flame  of  Heaven,  that  CiiARmr,  un- 
known before,  which,  as  it  has  been  from  all  eternity 
the  very  bond  of  divine  Unity,  was  now  to  become 
the  principal  motive  and  cause  of  the  new  alliance 
of  the  divine  with  the  human  nature.  For,  not  dis- 
solving His  essential  and  necessary  community  of  be- 
ing in  the  adorable  Trinity,  Jesus  Christ  associated 
His  divinity  to  our  humanity  through  that  unspeaka- 
ble  love  wherewith  God  loved  us.  "  In  this  has'  the 
charity  of  God  appeared  towards  us,  because  God 


BfM"s».-r  ■.■^^■SXS  f  .T?V.3'.fsT.:rs?ir--  '^^i 


■-•i  •.^-r'ti  <;v^va.-»:y3aOTffTg>-'Mg^^»"-.^y'^>>'»?'^g^^^ 


IRT. 

Mac.  i.  22) ; 
of  a  celestiftl 
(ving  of  tliat 
I  actively  in 
he  older  dis- 
eal  and  cleaa 

that  really 
r  ft  burning 
sm  whoiT^  it 
ait  the  etcT' 
oluble  nnion. 
kl  Son  of  tlie 

Thou  didHt 
?8.  Txxix.  8.) 
}  attach  itaelf 
oominenting : 

to  Bupersede 
snraed.  Then 
16  living,  lov- 
)wn  the  real 
CiiABrrr,  un- 
I  all  eternity 
w  to  become 
new  alliance 
For,  not  dis- 
Qunity  of  be- 
ist  associated 
lat  nnspeaka- 
this  has^  the 
because  Qod 


ON   THE    FIIIE   OF   THE   SACUED    HEART. 


305. 


hath  sent  down  IHh  only-begotten  Sou  into  the 
world"  (I  Jo.  vi.  9),  whereby  we  have  "fellowship 
with  the  Father,  and  with  Ilia  Son,  Jesus  Christ."  (lb. 

i.  8.) 

The  charity  or  love,  therefore,  which  reigned  eter- 
nally in  Heaven,  was  the  Are  which  our  Lord  and 
Saviour  first  brought  down  on  earth  at  His  incarnation, 
to  be  the  link  of  union  between  God  and  man,  and  to 
be  the  consuming  fire  of  His  voluntary  and  priceless 
immolation. 

And  where  was  this  fire  treasured  up,  which  Jesus 
Christ  brought  to  scatter  over  the  earth,  excPi)t  in  His 
most  adorable  Heart,  whence  John  drew  his  stores  of 
love,  and  which,  from  the  moment  that  it  was  formed, 
beat  and  throbbed  only  with  love  for  God  and  man. 
And  therefore  would  He  have  it  opened  on  His  cross, 
that  its  unreserved  richness  of  charity  might  be  all 
poured  out  to  earth. 

From  that  fervent  and  ardent  Heart  of  Jesus,  then, 
came  that  fire,  to  kindle  which  He  sent  His  Comforter 
after  Himself.  (John,  xv.  26 ;  xvi.  Y.)  For  John  fore- 
told that  He  whom  he  announced  should  "baptize  in 
the  Holy  Ghost  and  in  fire."  (Matt.  iii.  11.)  And  this 
fire  was  communicated  first  to  the  hearts  of  the  apos- 
tles, and  from  theii-s  to  those  of  the  faithful,  as  St.  Paul 
assures  us,  that  "  the  charity  of  God  is  poured  forth 
in  our  hearts  by  the  Holy  Ghost  who  is  given  us." 
(Rom.  V.  6.)  Thus  are  this  fire  and  this  charity  but 
one  and  the  same. 

And  thia  iupouring  of  the  divine  fire  of  love  is 
made,  first,  by  the  sacraments,  in  which  the  grace  of 
the  divine  Spirit  is  directly  communicated,  and  then. 


r 


806 


OK    THE    FIIIE   or   TlIK  HACRET)    IIEAHT. 


T 


M  WO  have  seen,  l>y  the  teacl.ing  of  tli«  Cliurch,  or  by 
Peter'd  iipaaking  to  the  inultitodo  of  the  faithful  in  the 
penjon,  and  on  behalf,  of  the  entire  apo«tle«»hip. 

"What  follows,  dearly  beloved,  but  this?— that  Jf  we 
deuire  to  have  share  in  this  blessed  office,  that  of  trans- 
fusing  the  riches  of  the  sweet  Heart  of  Jesus  into  yet 
innocent  hearts,  more  worthy  of  them  than  our  own 
Hiuful  ones,  we  must  generously  attempt  it  by  instruct- 
ing, in  the  knowledge  and  love  of  Him,  those  in  whom 
more  than  in  any  othere.  He  wishes  thia  double  flame 
of  light  and  fire,  of  wisdom  and  charity,  to  be  enkin- 
dled.    But  what  have  we  said  ?     Will  not  that  act  on 
your  parts,  by  which  you  communicate  to  Christ'i 
children  this  fire  of  love,  through  a  religious  educa- 
tion, be  itHelf  a  bright  and  shining  evidence,  before 
God  and  His  Church,  that  the  ftre  of  charity  has  been 
already  kindled  in  your  own  hearts? 

Then  draw  nigh  to  day  to  this  furnace  of  brilliant 
flame,  to  this  burning  Heart  of  Jesus,  and  tbere  renew 
your  spirit  of  charity,  by  imitating  its  peculiar  love 
for  His  favorite  poor  and  little  ones.    Give  abun- 
dantly and  generously,  that  so  the  interests  of  the 
Sacred  Heart  may  be  fully  carried  out  by  our  zealous 
and  devoted   Poor    School   Committee.     Make  up, 
therefore,  this  year,  for  the  deficiencies  of  the  last, 
and  kindle  far  and  wide,  by  your  greater  liberality, 
that  divine  fire,  which  our  Lord  and  Saviour  came  to 
cast  upon  the  earth.      And  to  Him  eainestly  and 
warmly  we  commit  the  care  of  your  reward.    "For 
He  is  faithful  that  hath  promised;  and  let  us  consider 
one  another,  to  i)rovoke  unto  charity  and  good  works." 
The  grace  of  God  be  with  you.    Amen. 


LllT. 

lurch,  or  hy 
itiiful  in  the 
»Hhip. 

—that  if  we 
hftt  of  trans- 
i'8us  into  yet 
mn  our  own 
;  by  instruct" 
080  in  whom 
iloublo  flame 
to  be  en  kin- 
t  tliat  act  oa 
B  to  Christ's 
igious  cduca* 
ilence,  before 
rity  has  been 

e  of  brilliant 
I  there  renew 
peculiar  love 
Give  nbun- 
;ereBt8  of  the 
y  our  zealous 
,      Make   up, 
IS  of  the  last, 
ter  liberality, 
viour  came  to 
eai'nestly  and 
eward.    "For 
let  as  consider 
I  good  works." 


1 


^mm 


mtfm 


No.  IV. 
0n  iU  ^0i[  f  rrriouif  astood  ot  (he  ^mi  of  our 

By  a  liturgical  combination,  which  cannot  happen 
again  within  the  lives  of  most  of  us,  this  Sunday, 
instead  of  being  dedicated  to  the  celebration  of  a  feast 
in  honor  of  the  Sacred  Heart  of  our  Divine  RedcemiM", 
will  commemorate  instead  His  most  precious  Blood. 
It  can,  indeed,  scarcely  bo  said  that  the  two  festivals 
are  different.  The  primary  object  is  the  same  in  both. 
They  are  expressive  of  the  same  woi-ship,  the  same 
adoration,  the  same  gratitude,  and  the  same  love,  di- 
rected  to  Him  whose  heart  poured  ort  its  life-blood 
for  our  redemption.  Whether  in  its  deep  cistern,  or 
in  its  unfailing  out-flow,  we  honor  and  venerate  alike 
the  price  of  our  freedom  and  our  life. 

And  what  else  is  the  blessed  Heart  of  Jesus  but 
the  wonderful  alembic  which  transmuted  the  food 
of  earth,  not  merely  into  the  nourishment  of  one 
body,  and  the  life-stream  of  one  person,  but  into  the 
quickening  support  of  millions,  into  the  circulation  of 
unity  through  the  entire  Church  of  ages,  into  the  ran- 
8om  beyond  prioe  of  all  mankind,  into  the  golden  flood, 
which  flowing  ever  from  the  foot  of  the  Lamb,  watei-s 
and  fertilizes  Heaven  and  earth,  becomes  the  river  of 
life  to  one,  the  stream  of  grace  to  the  other. 

For  what,  again,  is  the  adorable  Heart  of  Jesus  but 


SnA 


Onr  TIIK  MOskT  iiutosout  bI.OCD  or 


the  fountain  of  Pnrftdiiif,  vliencn  Rpnnj;ii  tli«  rivur 
that  in  tlividml  into  four  branches,  carrying  n^frtjali- 
luent,  healing,  and  life  to  ev«ry  region,  and  to  «very 
race  I  One  ii  a  Inver  of  cloanning  and  r»*gt'nerkting 
water,  wnshing  away  nil  «in  and  stain  ;  another  it  a 
bath  that  roatoi-ei  or  increaaen  truui  and  vigor  to  thoM 
who  have  to  wrestle  and  fight  for  Ood ;  a  third  in  a 
rich  flow  of  coniiccrating  unction  such  as  Htrenmed 
frona  the  head  of  Aaron;  while  the  last  and  best  it 
the  refreshing  torrent  of  delights,  at  which  sainU 
drink  with  renewed  rapture,  and  forgiven  sinnt  r«j  with 
strengthening  relish. 

All  these  streams  of  salvation,  however  different 
their  immediate  action,  are  but  one  in  source  and  in 
sul)staoce.  For  what  is  it  that  washes  away  our  "tains 
but  "  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  which  cleanseth  us 
from  every  sin  ?"  IIow  did  the  oil  of  unction  ficquire 
its  power  to  strengthen  and  to  consecrate,  but  from 
those  first  instalments  of  our  ransom,  which  flowed 
upon  the  root  of  tho  olive,  trickling  from  the  pores  of 
our  prostrate  I/)rd,  like  an  enriching  dew  that  jier- 
vades  their  fruit.  But  direct  from  the  divine  Heart, 
in  full  warm  surge,  wells  forth  tho  ti<l'^  of  a  spiritual 
abundance,  water  for  our  purification  Hi»t.ion  for 
our  consecration,  and  the  chalice  of  lv<.ti»>j\  Hence 
the  eucharistic  "  wine  springing  forth  virgins"  (Zach. 
ix.  17),  the  juice  of  the  true  vino,  whereof  we  are  the 
branches,  the  balm  of  soothing  and  healing  virtue 
which  issued  from  His  body,  to  the  very  hem  of  our 
Loi  i'i  outer  garment,  but  now  rushes  out  through  the 
open  gash  that  reaches  to  the  very  core  of  that  celes- 
tial plaDt 


TIII^  nr.ART  OF  OUR  LORD  JfM^n  c 


n  tli«  rivi'f 
ii>jjf  r«"frt!iih« 
lul  to  «v«iy 
'f  generating 
motltor  in  a 
ijor  to  thoiw 
H  third  in  a 
ill  Htrfamed 
and  b«Mit  it 
^hioh  (tainta 
ttinntiro  witU 

^er  different 
9arc6  and  in 
ly  our  "tains 
jltianstith  ut 
tion  fiequire 
te,  but  from 
hich  flowed 
the  pores  of 
;w  that  jier* 
ivine  Heart, 
f  a  Hpiritual 
unction  for 
ur\  Hence 
•gina"  (25ach. 
f  we  are  the 
aling  virtue 
hem  of  our 
through  the 
>f  that  celes- 


Yt'»i,  di'oily  li«»iovp<l  in  (.'hiiiit,  what«*Vfr  i»  goo<l, 
whn«v  vor  i«  holy,  wl'.atever  in  jwrfect  Uj>ou  earth,  hna 
come  to  u«  from,  and  through,  and  by  the  n^xit 
*  precious  Blood  of  our  divine  Fxird  and  Saviour  JcMtis 
Christ.  Thin,  from  the  beginning,  was  more  variously, 
and  more  abundant^  symbolized  to  uh  than  any 
thing  else  in  the  N«!W  Testament;  though  ifs  exct-l. 
lenre  is  manifested  by  the  contrast  in  which  it  stands 
with  its  types.  It  was  to  be  innocently  shed  like 
Abel's,  that  it  might  be  shown  to  plead  better  and 
more  efficaciously  than  it  for  mercy,  not  for  ven- 
geance. It  v.as  poured  out  in  sacrifice,  that  it  might 
be  proved  inf!nit<'ly  superior  to  the  blood  of  ox"n 
and  of  goat«,  which  had  no  power  to  cleanse  the  soul. 
(Heb.  ix.  18.)  Finally,  the  paschal  lamb,  the  noblest 
type  of  our  redemption,  by  the  anointing  with  its 
blood  of  the  doo.'-posts  of  the  IsraeliteM,  scared  away 
the  destroying  angel,  and  made  Pharaoh  relax  his 
grasp  on  God's  captive  people,  and  so  freed  them ; 
only  to  prefigure  how  the  I^mb  that  taketh  away 
the  sins  of  the  world  would  baffle  and  overcome 
the  prince  of  darkness  and  of  eternal  death,  and 
force  the  tyrant  of  earth  and  hell  to  let  His  own 
people  go  free,  to  offer  sacrifice  even  in  this  wilder^ 
nesH. 

And  how  was  this  f  The  posts  of  the  gate  which 
alone  leads  to  life  immortal,  the  ctohh  under  which  all 
must  stoop  who  desire  to  enter  into  Paradise,  are 
richly  streaked,  nay,  thickly  puinted  with  the  Blood 
of  "our  immolated  Pasch,"  more  terrible  to  His  ene- 
luieH  than  the  brightest  flash  of  Heaven's  lightning. 
And  so,  when  we  poi-take  of  the  Divine  Mysteries,  the 


r 


m/mn^'^f^^ 


400 


ON  THE  5I08T  P11ECI0D8   BIX)OD   OF 


I  '-*■ 


threshold  of  oar  mouths,  our  lips,  are  dyed  with  the 
same  rich  drops  that  fell  so  copiously  on  Calvary. 

"With  what  devotion,  then,  should  we  not  commem- 
orate this  shedding  of  our  Saviour's  precious  Blood, 
at  the  very  mention  of  which  the  Church  makes  her 
ministei's  bend  their  knees,  in  awe  and  adoration  of  a 
mystery  so  profound  and  yet  so  sweet,  so  fearful  and 
yet  so  tender !  As  the  more  deep  and  terrible  is  the 
gulf  that  opens  beneath  us,  the  more  we  feel  drawn 
tow-ards  it,  and  tempted  to  plunge  into  "it,  so  is  this 
abyss  of  wonderful  and  unfathomable  goodness,  awful 
to  contemplate,  yet  inviting  our  love  to  dive  into  it 
fearlessly,  and  taste  unsated  of  its  delights. 

To  think  that  God  should  have  taken  flesh,  the  very 
body  cf  man,  with  all  its  lowliness  of  nature  but  won- 
dera-  of  construction,  merely  that  He  might  die,  and 
that  He  should  have  blood  to  shed,  for  man's  ransom, 
salvation,  and  nourishment;  to  contemplate  by  what 
harrowing  and  afflicting  ways  this  outpouring  should 
have  to  be  made,  by  what  stripes,  bufi'ets,  wounds, 
gashes,  piercing  and  transfixing  of  every  part  of  that 
thrice-holy  Body,  to  the  very  rending  of  its  divine 
Heart ;  to  meditate  on  the  overwhelming  truth  that 
God,  the  Father  who  loved  Him  with  an  infinite  affec- 
tion, should  have  been  pleased,  propitiated,  soothed 
and  turned  to  love  from  just  anger  by  this  tremendous 
atonement,  baffles  and  sets  at  naught  all  our  estimates, 
and  all  our  reasonings  on  the  eternal  and  infinite  ways 
of  a  divine  dispensation.  Yet  how  bright  this  depth, 
how  richly  lighted  by  every  tender  hue  of  love !  How 
meekness  and  gentleness,  mercy  and  forgiveness,  disin- 
terestedness and  self-sacrifice,  county  and  liberality, 


aMiSTwfe'Tsgir'wJR^Tyiar^^^^ 


OP 

Jyed  with  the 
Calvary, 
uofc  commem- 
lecious  Blood) 
ch  makes  her 
idoration  of  a 
80  feaiful  and 
;errible  ia  the 
'e  feel  drawn 
»'it,  so  is  this 
jodness,  awful 
o  dive  into  it 
Its. 

flesh,  the  very 
iture  but  won- 
iiight  die,  and 
man's  ransom, 
slate  by  what 
ouring  should 
iiffets,  wounds, 
y  part  of  that 
;  of  its  divine 
ing  truth  that 
a  infinite  affec- 
:iated,  soothed 
bis  tremendous 
[  our  estimates, 
d  infinite  ways 
yht  this  depth, 
of  love !  How 
giveness,  disia- 
and  liberality, 


THE  HEART  OP   OUK  LORD  JESUS  CHRIST.         401 

affectionateness  and  familiarity,  parental  fondness  and 
brotherly  caress,  play  through  the  abyss,  as  profound 
and  as  measureless,  and  as  incomprehensible  as  itself! 
How  unsearchable  are  the  ways  of  God's  love,  as 
much  as  those  of  His  might!  Who  hath  been  His 
counsellor  but  Himself— th6  infinite  goodness  urg- 
ing on  the  infinite  energy  of  the  Divine  in  all  things ! 

But  what  multiplies  beyond  the  bounds  of  a  limited 
conception  the  immensity  of  this  love  is,  that  it  is  in- 
dividual and  singular.  "Sic  totum  omnibus  quod 
totum  singulis."  Every  drop  of  blood,  so  unreservedly 
poured  out  on  Golgotha,  was  gathered  into  one  cup, 
the  whole  contents  of  which  every  soul  may  drink  and 
make  its  own.  The  entire  price  was  paid  for  each : 
the  value  of  each  soul  is  the  equivalent  of  the  whole 
ransom.  The  treasure  is  not  divided  and  paid  out  in 
single  coins,  but  the  entire  sum  is  lavishly  given  to 
each  prodigal.  Who  can  penetrate  to  the  depths  of 
this  almighty  mercy ;  yet  who  can  forbear  to  love  it 
and  do  his  utmost  to  be  worthy  of  it  ? 

Hence,  dearly  beloved  children  in  Christ,  when  we 
put  before  you  the  claims  of  little  ones— little  by  age 
or  by  worldly  insignificance — we  are  accustomed  to 
lay  our  principal  stress  on  this  one  motive,  that  their 
souls  have  been  thought  worth  His  precious  life-blood, 
by  Jesus  Christ,  their  and  our  Redeemer.  When  es- 
pecially we  call  on  you  to  exercise  the  highest  act  of 
spiritual  charity,  to  save  their  souls  rather  than  sus- 
tain their  bodies,  the  plea  comes  home  with  tenfold 
urgency.  Will  you  not  concur,  and  assist  to  the  ut- 
most in  saving  the  souls  which  He  so  dearly  bought, 
«nd  loved  beyond  His  own  precious  life  ? 

86 


1 


402      ON  THE  EDUCATiON  OF  TUB  HEART  OV  JE8U9. 

To  this  anpeal  you  cannot  answer,  no :  it  is  impossi- 
ble.    Such,\li en,  especially,  is  our  pleading  the  day 
that  you  hear  these  words.    It  i«  only  by  multiplying 
the  means  of  religious  education  that  thousands  of 
your  poor  children  can  be  ensured  that  salvation  which 
Jeflus  Christ  purchased  for  them.    The  society  to  which 
you  are  asked  to  contribute  hac  this  for  its  sole  and 
universal  object.    It  seeks,  like  the  charity  of  our 
Lord  and  Saviour,  to  embrace  all  and  each,  to  extend 
its  salutaiy  effects  throughout  the  whole  country,  and 
to  reach  the  smallest  and  most  neglected  child  with 
individual  assistance. 

So  may  God  requite  you,  and  give  you  of  Hit 
abundance,  through  the  redemption  which  is  by  Christ 
Jesus.    Amen. 


No.  V. 

.  « 

m  m  mmiim  of  tht  lead  ot  ie$tt«. 

Wheit,  lately,  our  Holy  Father  condescended  to 
manifest  His  sympathy  for  our  poor  children,  He  sent, 
as  the  symbolical  expression  of  that  feeling,  a  repre- 
sentation of  the  Sacred  Heart  of  our  Divine  Saviour, 
with  a  loving  message  to  assure  us  how  sincerely  He 
had  their  welfare  at  heart.  And,  in  this  selection.  He 
only  approved  and  confirmed  that  choice  which  the 
Catholic  Church,  over  which  He  rules,  had  long  made 
of  that  same  sacred  emblem,  to  represent  the  charity 


mm. 


JESUS. 

;  is  impossi- 
ig  the  day 
multiplying 
iiousands  of 
atioQ  which 
sty  to  which 
its  sole  aud 
rity  of  our 
b,  to  extend 
ioqntry,  and 
I  child  with 

you  of  Hii 
is  by  Christ 


lescended  to 
Iren,  He  sent, 
ling,  a  repro- 
vine  Saviour, 
sincerely  He 
selection,  He 
ice  which  the 
ad  long  made 
t  the  charity 


ON  TIIE  EDUCATION  OF  TUE  HEART  OF  JK8US.     403 

of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  towards  all  mankind,  and 
consequently  more  especially  towards  those  objects  of 
His  tenderest  affection. 

Yes,  dearly  beloved  in  Christ,  the  education  of 
poor  children,  under  the  auspices  of  the  adorable 
Heart  of  Jesus,  possesses  large  and  ample  claims 
upon  your  charity.  This  beautiful  symbol,  in  fact, 
holds  and  comprehends  in  itself  the  whole  design 
and  purposes  of  the  education  which  we  aim  at 
giving. 

When  our  blessed  Ix)rd  Himself  instructed,  or 
rather  educated  (for  He  had  to  deliver  the  very  fli-st 
rudiments  of  religious  wisdom  to  men  more  ignor- 
ant of  them  than  a  child  is  now),  we  may  imagine 
His  audience  to  have  been  very  like  that  which  now 
surrounds  His  priests  in  this  metropolis,  when  they 
catechize,  or  when,  without  reputation  for  eloquence 
that  attracts,  they  labor  to  instil  simple  doctrine  into 
the  minds  of  crowds.  Very  like,  even  the  many  who 
gather  as  yet  round  Him  in  His  tabernacle,  in  less 
central  churches,  about  which  none  live  but  the  poor, 
must  have  been  the  congregations  which  first  heard 
the  sublime  elements  of  Christian  doctrine.  They  are 
simply  described,  again  and  again,  by  the  word  which 
characterizes  such  a  body, — "the  crowd."  In  the 
singular  or  in  the  plural  —  turba  or  turbo),  "  the 
crowd,^*  or  "  cr<?M«fo,"  they  are  so  mentioned  upwards 
of  forty  times,  in  each  of  the  gospels  according  to  St. 
Matthew  and  to  St.  Luke.  It  is  not  thus  that  the 
rich  are  spoken  of. 

It  is  not  thus  that  a  select  congregation  at  the  feet 
of   a  fashionable  preacher  would  be  denominated. 


r 


■tfTKfTSCflW.S 


404     ON  TIIK  EDUCATION  OF  THE  HEART  OP  JESUS. 

They  would  be  Horry  to  be  so  desif^tiftted.  Yet  it  is  of 
this  congregation  that  we  read  that  "  the  crowds  won- 
dered at  or  admired  His  doctrine"  (Matt.  vii.  28; 
xxil.  88),  and  His  miracles  (Matt.  ix.  33;  xv.  31 ;  Luke, 
xi.  14) ;  that  they  recognized  His  rank  and  title,  say- 
ing: "Is  not  this  the  son  of  David T  (Matt.  xii.  28) 
that  they  spread  their  garments  on  His  path,  and 
gave  Him  His  triumphal  entry  into  Jerusalem.  (Matt, 
xxi.  9.)  Nay,  it  was  this  crowds  mob,  as  no  doubt  the 
priests  and  Pharisees  loved  to  call  it,  which  these 
proud  men  feared  in  their  plots  against  Him.  (Matt. 
xxi.  26;  Luke,  xxii.  6.)  Indeed,  we  are  told,  that 
"  of  the  people"  {turba,  in  the  Vulgate),  "  many  believed 
in  Him"  (John,  vii.  81),  so  that  the  Pharisees  said: 
" Hath  any  one  of  the  ruloss  believed  in  Him,  or  of 
the  Pharisees  ?  But  this  multitude  (turha)  that  know- 
eth  not  the  law,  are  accui*sed."  (49.)  Bitter  words, 
these,  and  how  like  words  often  spoken  now-a-days  I 
Rulers  and  Pharisees— the  leading  men,  and  the 
learned  men  of  the  nation,  not  one  had  publicly  ac- 
knowledged or  followed  Jesus :  the  common  people, 
the  poor  "who  knew  not  the"  Bible,  are  accursed,  de- 
groded,  outcast,  for  their  faith.  The  one  exception, 
NicoderauB,  who  rises  to  impugn  this  abominable 
declaration,  is  described  as  "  he  that  came  to  Him  by 
night,  and  is  so  secretly  a  believer,  that  his  compan- 
ions ask  in  surprise,  "Art  thou  also  a  Galilean]" 
(50,  62.) 

The  powerful  men  occasionally  come  on  the  stage 
to  tempt,  or  entrap,  or  impugn  His  words  (Matt.  xvi. 
1 ;  xix.  8 ;  xx.  17 ;  Luke,  x.  25),  or  even  to  calumni- 
Atc  and  vilify  Him  to  His  face.    (Mark,  lii.  22 ;  Jo. 


T 


f  JESUS. 

Yet  it  is  of 
crowds  won- 
att.  vli.  28; 
V.  31 ;  Luke, 
id  title,  say- 
latt.  xii.  28) 
a  path,  and 
alom.  (Matt. 
10  doubt  the 
which  tliese 
Him.  (Matt, 
e  told,  that 
any  believed 
arisees  said : 
i  Him,  or  of 
i)  that  know- 
Jitter  words, 

now-a-d»y8 1 
ea,  and  the 
publicly  ao 
imon  people, 
accursed,  de- 
le  exception, 

abominable 

e  to  Him  by 

his  conipan- 

a  Galilean  r 

on  the  stage 
tS  (Matt.  xvi. 
[  to  calumni- 
E,  lii.  22  ;  Jo. 


ON  THE  EDUCATION  OP  THE  HEART  OF  JESUS.     405 

vii.  20 ;  viii.  42  ;  x.  20.)  Or  they  invite  Him  to  their 
houses,  and  scorn  His  humility  and  charity  towflrdn 
penitents  (Luke,  vii.  30),  or  captiously  watch  His 
exercise  of  loving  power  on  the  Sabbath  (xiv.  1),  or 
ask  Him  to  work  a  miracle  and  be  jeered  foi  attempt* 
ing  it     (v.  38.) 

It  is  not  a  crowd  of  noble  or  dainty  peopla  who 
would  go  for  three  days  into  a  wilderness,  without 
provisions,  or  servants  to  procure  them,  and  sit  down 
in  ranks  upon  the  grass  to  be  fed  like  children,  or 
beadsmen  at  a  gate.  He  has  told  us,  "  What  went 
you  out  in  the  desert  to  see  ?  A  man  clad  in  soft 
garments?  Behold  they  who  are  clad  in  soft  gar- 
ments are  in  the  houses  of  kings"  (Matt.  xi.  8),  not  in 
deserts.  No,  the  crowd  which  surrounded  Him  was  a 
rude  jostling  crowd,  which  so  pressed  Him  on  all  sides, 
that  His  disciples  said  it  was  impossible  to  ascertain 
who^touched  Him  (Luke,  viii.  45) ;  which  almost  drove 
Him  into  the  sea,  and  compelled  Him  to  teach  from  a 
boat  (v.  1)  ;  which  let  down  its  sick  through  the  roof 
of  a  house,  to  reach  Him.    (v.  19.) 

Such  were  the  men  and  women  to  whom  Jesus 
Christ  taught  the  fii-st  Christian  catechism;  the  same 
class  as  He  selec'edHis  disciples  and  apostles  from, 
the  poor,  the  unlettered,  the  weak  and  the  despised. 
It  was  "  to  the  poor  that  His  gospel  was  preached." 
(Matt.  xi.  6.) 

Now  it  was  of  such  a  crowd  as  this  that  we  are  told 
that  "they  brought  Him  young  children  that  He 
might  touch  them"  (Mark,x.  13);  and  of  the  children 
of  such  parents  when  the  disciples  rebuked  them.  He 
said :  "  Suflfer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  Me  "    But 


r 


"F 


"yL'.fiy  ?!y>'y 'g'*-''--'"?-  ry  ??• 


400     OM  TIIK   EDUCATION  OF  THE   HEART  OF   JE8UB. 

He  was  not  content  with  doing  what  those  poor  good 
people  asked.  St.  Mark  tells  us  that  He  went  far  be- 
yond this:  "and  embracing  them,  and  laying  His 
hands  upon  thera,  He  blessed  them.''  (16.)  More 
pointedly  still,  when  He  wished  to  place  before  His 
apostles  and  disciples— His  fishermen,  His  sailors.  His 
publicans,  a  type  of  perfection,  and  representative  of 
those  who  were  fit  to  enter  into  His  Church,  He  Himself 
"  caUs  unto  Him  a  little  child."  (Matt,  xviii.  2.)  What 
sort  of  a  child  1  He  did  not  send  for  him.  He  calls 
him,  one  at  hand,  one  of  the  poor,  a  child  from  the 
crowd,  ^be  rude,  vulgar  crowd. 

Intending  to  show  them  what  they  must  heconu  to 
enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  would  it  not  have  been 
almost  harsh  and  ungentle,  to  put  in  the  midst  of 
them  one  whose  entrance  into  it  was  likely  to  be  as 
difficult  as  the  passage  of  a  camel  through  the  needle's 
eye,  a  child  bright  with  beautiful  health,  sleek  ^and 
clothed  in  soft  garments,  a  type  of  earthly  prosperity, 
training,  and  happiness?     "Alasl"   would  they  not 
sav, "  nothing  can  ever  make  us  like  that  child  1"    But 
let  ns  rather  imagine  a  little  child  called  there  and 
then  from  amidst  those  who  habitually  followed  and 
admired  Jesus,— a  wan,  emaciated,  sickly  child ;  neg- 
lected, and  uncared  for,  poorly  attii-ed,  perhaps  m 
tattered  raiment,  with    bare  limbs,  and  uncovered 
head:  one  in  whom  the  poor  would  see  httle  unlike 
themselves  outwardly,  little  to  mortify  them  or  hum- 
ble them,  nothing  in  fact  different  from  themselye^ 
except  in  the  innocence  and  simplicity  of  its  age:  and 
we  shall  understand  the  full  beauty  of  this  passage  m 
our  Lord's  life,  and  the  sublimity  of  its  lesson. 


JK8UB. 


ON  THE  EDUCATION  OP  THE  HEART  OF  JKSU8.  407 


)  poor  good 
Bvent  far  be- 
laying His 
16.)  More 
before  Hia 
I  sailorfi,  His 
?8entative  of 
,  He  Himself 
i.2.)  What 
im,  He  calls 
Id  from  tbe 

ist  become  to 
)t  have  been 
he  midst  of 
:ely  to  be  as 

I  the  needle's 
h,  sleek  ^and 
yr  prosperity, 
lid  they  not 
child  1"  But 
id  there  and 
followed  and 
y  child ;  neg" 
I,  perhaps  iu 
d   uncovered 

little  unlike 
;hem  or  hura- 

II  themselves, 
fits  age:  and 
his  passage  in 
esson. 


Now  what  (loth  Jesus  with  this  poor  little  thing, 
picked  up  in  the  street  or  lane  ?  Does  He  merely, 
perhaps,  authoritatively,  call  it,  and  set  it  in  the  mid- 
dle of  His  followers,  scared  or  insolent,  to  be  lectured 
on,  like  a  model  or  a  machine?  Surely  not:  listen 
once  moi  e  to  St.  Mark.  "  And  taking  a  child," — tak- 
ing it,  mind,  not  ashamed  of  handling  or  caressing  it, — 
"  and  taking  a  child,  He  set  him  in  the  midst  of  them, 
whom  when  He  had  embraced,  He  saith  to  them: 
whoever  receiveth  one  such  child  as  this  in  my  name, 
receiveth  Me."  (Mark,  ix.  35.)  It  is  with  this  little 
poor,  and  perhaps  outcast,  child  in  His  arms,  that  He 
spoke  those  words  of  grace,  the  motto  inscribed  on  the 
charity  of  to-day.  But  this  is  not  the  whole  mystery 
of  the  act.  For  it  comprises  the  entire  scheme  and 
principle  of  Catholic  education. 

Jesus  embraced  that  little  child.  His  representative 
on  earth :  that  is.  He  pressed  it  to  His  own  living, 
warm,  and  palpitating  Heart ;  to  that  Heart  whiph, 
by  every  pulsation,  sends  salvation  and  eternal  life 
through  the  frame  of  the  whole  Church,  which  darts, 
with  irresistible  thrill,  the  price  of  redemption  to  the 
utter  bounds  of  earth.  It  was  a  dearly-bought  dis- 
tinction to  holy  Simeon,  earned  by  a  long  life  of  hope 
and  prayer,  to  hold  in  his  arms  his  infant  Saviour,  to 
whom  he  could  nothing  give.  What  an  honor  for 
this  child  to  be  taken  up  into  His  arms  who  could 
give  him  all  things.  But  no,  this  is  not  enough :  that 
poor  little  creature  has  forestalled  the  place  of  John, 
the  place  of  honor  and  of  love ;  that  place  far  beyond 
what  John's  mother  had  dared  in  her  maternal  pre- 
sumption to  ask,  which  was  only  that  he  might  sit  on 


■m&'mfis  ill 


T 


;Tf3rt#??nrt*^ 


I 


rtte 


'    \ 


liml'i 

mu 


408    OK  THK  EDUCATION  OF  THE  IIEAIIT  OF  JE808. 

the  right  or  left  hand  of  Je«ns.  When  He  rejected 
hei-  petition,  He  reserved  tor  liira  much  more,  that  he 
should  recline  upon  His  glorions  b<)«oni,  the  tabernacle 
of  His  self-immolating  Heart.  But  the  child  had 
climbed  up  there,  had  nestled  there  before  even  the 
beloved  one,  and  had  come  down  again,  educated  as 
the  contact  with  that  adorable  Heart  can  educate— 
the  very  God-child  of  Jesus.  So  necessary  a  conse- 
quence was  this,  that  in  the  ancient  Church  it  used  to 
be  thought  that  this  chosen  child  grew  up  to  be  the 
holy  Martyr  and  Bishop  Ignatius,  the  most  like  to 
John,  in  burning  love,  of  the  early  saints.        ^ 

But  as  we  said  just  now,  in  this  sweetest  incident 
of  our  Redeemer's  life,  we  have  the  whole  theory  of 
Catholic  education. 

Fii-st  listen  to  His  words  and  learn:  "He  who  re- 
ceiveth  one  such  child  as  this,  in  my  name,  receiveth 
Me."    How  easy  a  thing  it  is,  then,  to  receive  Jesus  1 
How  easy,  especially  in  this  metropolis  1    Come  1  two 
need  not  receive  the  same.    Our  Lord  asks  you  to  re- 
ceive  one  a-piece,  to  enjoy  the  stupendous  privilege  of 
receiving  Him.     We  have  them  ready.     Come  ten 
thousand  strong,  ye  rich !  come  twenty  thousand  in 
ranks,  ye  who  are  not  in  want  I    We  have  one  at  least 
for  each  of  you,  in  the  streets,  and  lanes,  in  the  courti 
and  corners,  in  the  gai-rets  and  cellars  of  luxurious 
London.    And  how  will  you  receive  these  tender  am- 
bassadore  from  your  Lord,  these  delicate  and  frail 
little  images  of  God  Incarnate  1    Will  you  be  hwsh 
and  ungracious  to  them ;  or  haughty  and  imposing ; 
will  you  be  repulsed  by  their  rags,  their  unclean  mess, 
their  rudeness,  or  their  stolidity  1    Or  rather  will  you 


_L 


JESOB. 

He  rnjected 
ore,  that  lift 
e  tabernacle 
3  child  hnil 
re  even  the 
educated  as 
,n  educate— 
nry  a  conse* 
ah  it  used  to 
jp  to  be  the 
most  like  to 

>test  incident 
)le  theory  of 

"  He  who  re- 
me,  receiveth 
eceive  JeauR  I 

Come!  two 
iks  you  to  re* 
9  privilege  of 
.     Come  ten 

thousand  in 
e  one  at  least 

in  the  courts 

of  luxurious 
Be  tender  am- 
ate  and  frail 
you  be  hwsh 
id  imposing; 
uncleanliness, 
ither  will  you 


Olf  TlIE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  IIEAUT  OF  JESUS.     409 

bo  kind  and  gentle,  generous  and  handsome,  in  your 
dealing  with  them;  will  you  warm  them  at  your 
hearts,  give  them  rest  on  your  bosoms  ?  It  was  thus, 
at  least,  that  Jesus  treated  them,  when  He  received 
them,  and  asked  you  to  receive  them. 

And  now,  dearly  beloved,  in  our  love  for  Him,  you 
will  ask  us  how  is  this  to  be  done?  Simply  and 
easily.  Every  child  whom  you  will  provide  with  a 
Catholic  education,  you  bring  to  the  very  Heart  of 
our  Lord,  and  educate  there.  Science  and  letters,  if 
taught  in  His  spirit,  may  indeed  be  as  His  two  arms, 
which  raise  the  child  from  the  earth,  and  its  grovel- 
ling thoughts;  but  religious  and  moral  truth  alone 
put  His  seal  upon  all  other  teaching ;  and  that  seal  is 
the  pressure  of  His  sacred  Heart,  of  its  diamond 
sti-ength  and  brilliancy,  on  the  yet  soft  wax  of  the 
childish  heart.  By  this  holy  impulse  is  the  one 
clasped  close  upon  the  other,  and  the  infinite  graces 
of  the  one  are  inhaled,  as  was  man's  firat  breath  of 
life,  by  the  awakening  intelligence  and  expanding 
feelings  from  the  living  fountain  of  all-redeeming 
love! 

For,  what  is  there  in  the  divine  Heart  of  Jesus, 
which  you  would  not  gladly  transfuse  into  the  child's, 
even  though  it  may  seem  to  be  a  pouring  from  a 
golden  vessel  into  one  of  clay?  Would  you  not 
gladly  enrich  that  little  heart  with  some  diops  of  His 
mildness,  gentleness,  patience ;  of  His  humility,  meek- 
ness, and  sweetness ;  of  His  charity,  affeotionateness, 
tenderness ;  of  His  purity,  innocence,  holiness  ?  And 
where  are  all  these  virtues  to  be  found  ?  He  has  told 
01,  "  Learn  of  Me,  because  I  aia  meek  and  humble 


—J- 


I 


"  -MMMMMIIlicn 


410    o»  TU«  iDucATioN  or  TiiK  HEART  ov  jmvu, 

of  heart:  (Matt.  xi.  12.)  If  the  treiwiire-ljouM  of 
Hia  hnmility  in  lUa  heart,  if  the  school  of  Hi«  jnf^k- 
nan  ia  in  His  brenal,  there  ftlao  renida  thoeo  other 
virtues  which  you  wiih  to  infuae  into  the  chiUl'i 
heart,  there  \n  the  school  at  which  you  would  b.ivo  it 
trained.  For  "  where  its  treanure  is,  there  its  heart 
should  ako  be."  (Luke,  xxi.  84.)  And  long  before 
the  proclaimer  of  the  eternal  wisdom  had  said  :  "  In- 
cline thy  heart  to  know  prudence If  wisdom 

shall  enter  into  thy  heart,  ....  counsel  shall  please 
thee,  that  thou  mayest  be  delivered  from  the  evil 
way  keeping  the  paths  of  justice,  and  guarding  the 
way  of  the  saints."  (Prov.  ii.  1-12.)  If,  thon,  the 
treasure  of  the  virtue  is  in  the  sacred  Heart  of  Jesus, 
thither  speedily  take  the  young  heart  to  be  filled ;  if 
the  training  in  the  way  from  which  the  youth  and  the 
old  man  ought  not  to  depart  (xx.  6),  is  by  the  whis- 
perings of  the  Wisdom  uncreate  into  the  heart  of 
the  child,  surely  the  perfection  of  its  education  is  the 
bringing  it  into  closest  contact  with  the  sacred  Heart 
of  Jesus,  which  our  charity  desires  and  strives  to  do. 

Yes,  dearly  beloved,  if  we  have  spoken  to  you  of 
fearing  not  to  bring  the  children  of  the  jjoorest  into 
your  bosoms,  as  Jesus  taught  you  to  do,  we  now  tell 
you  a  still  better  thing  to  bring  them  to  His.  Teach 
them  there,  train  them  there,  warm  them  there,  flU 
their  heads,  their  hearts  there ;  and  you  will  indeed 
have  done  more  than  receive  them  in  His  name,  you 
will  have  taken  them  up  in  your  arms,  only  to  place 
them  in  His;  you  will  have  obtained  for  them  Hia 
embrace,  besides  your  own. 
.    And  now,  dear  children  in  Christ,  does  it  not  sound 


r«-liouiie  <»f 
Hiai  !«e«k* 
hoeo  other 
tho   child's 
mid  b.ivo  it 
re  ita  heart 
long  before 
said :  "  In- 
If  wisdom 
jhall  please 
m  the  evil 
larding  the 
\\  th»}n,  the 
irt  of  Jesus, 
bo  filled ;  if 
utb  and  the 
ay  the  whis- 
tle heart  of 
nation  is  the 
acred  Heart 
ive«  to  do. 
ti  to  you  of 
poorest  into 
we  now  tell 
His.    Teach 
m  there,  fill 
will  indeed 
s  name,  you 
mly  to  place 
r  them  His 

it  not  sound 


oil  Tiir.  rnrcATioN  or  tiik  iikaht  or  jr^vn.    411 

sfrftugo  that  we  should  pn)pose  to  you  to  barter  UfV- 
isluiblH  ri«'ln«8  against  inunortal  souls?  I)o«'«  it  not 
seem  profano,  that  this  embrace  of  which  we  have 
spoken  should  be  purchasable  by  vile  dross?  Yet  so 
it  is.  It  is  literally  ii  matter  of  computation,  how 
much  suffices,  to  give  to  each  single  child  in  I^ndon, 
now  spiritually  destitute,  and  morally  abandnntMl,  the 
full  privilege  of  this  holy  education.  A  small  sum,  a 
very  small  sam— less  than  a  day's  excursion  for  pleas- 
ure,  less  than  a  journey  to  see  a  race,  Iwm  than  a  very  sim- 
ple attire— than  a  small  ornament,  less  than  at  times  a 
modest  nosegay,  perhaps  a  single  flower  would  cost, 
given  once  a-year  to  this  charity,*  will  rescue  one 
child  from  the  defilements  of  the  sti-eet,  or  the  idle- 
ness of  home ;  will  purchase  the  one  child  who  may 
represent  Jesus  to  one  of  yoo,  and  place  it  to  be  nui-sed 
at  His  Heart 

For,  dear  disciples  of  this  loving  Heart,  once  there 
it  departs  no  more.  Whence  in  course  of  time  will 
flow  the  waters  of  eternal  life,  but  from  their  source 
in  that  blessed  Heart,  which,  at  every  pulse  during 
thirty-three  years,  distilled  new  drops,  eveiy  one  of 
which  was  a  world's  ransom?  When  for  the  first 
time  that  child  shall  quaflT  that  cleansing  blood  ffom 
the  cup  of  salvation,  when  Jesua  returns  its  early 
mystical  embrace,  by  bringing  the  entire  well  of  His 
mercies  into  nearest  contact  with  that  panting  heart, 
which  has  longed  for  the  hour  of  that  sacramental 
embrace ;  is  it  possible  that  you  can  purchase  this 
sublime  felicity  for  that  child—nay,  that  you  can 

•  It  hH  bMB  Mloolaiad  iliat  th«  ednoAtloa  of  «  ohUd  ooato  CI  KM.  for  a  ymr. 


MMVmn!G!$ffl3EII|t" 


T 


oMWi 


»0mt 


413    ON  nu  EnuoATioN  or  the  iikaiit  or  jwiim. 

i»urchn«fl  It  for  iti  UnX  ?  Oh  t  rIvo  tho  pric«  chttr- 
fully,  uMgrudginRly  1  iny,  when  this  i-  re«a  to  >^ou— 
ifty  generouHly.  "  I  will  hnvfl  my  own  poor  ch.M  this 
yenr :  though  it  mny  cost  me  ft  sligiit  Knciiflcr,  I 
will  give  my  dear  Saviour  one,  cupeciiiUy  mine,  to 

embrace."  .      <-,      i 

And  BO,  if  one  day  it  stray  away  from  »t«  Good 
Shepherd,  whither  will  it  return,  whither  will  it  be 
allured?    To  IIih   Heart  flii»t,  and  then  on  to  Ilm 
Bhouldem.    For  flnit  it  will  be  forgiven,  an.l  then  It 
will  be  sustained.     And  where  is  the  mercy  that  par- 
don«,  where  the  kindnew  that  encourages,  save  i"  His 
loving  and  mighty  Heart  1     No:  once  place  the  chi Id 
where  a  Catholic  education  alone  can,  in  the  adorable 
Heart  of  Jesus,  and  nothing  but  hardened  sin  can 
fully  separate  him  from  it.     It  will  be  his  refuge,  his 
fortress,  his  home,  his  pharmacy,  his  fragrant  garden, 
his  fruitful  field,  his  sure  path,  his  paradise,  his  gate 
of  salvation.    There  he  will  find  his  gold,  his  balm, 
his  fragrance,  his  light,  his  food,  his  refreshment,  hii 
comfort,  his  joy  in  life,  his  hope  in  death. 

Ever  holy  and  adorable  symbol  of  love  immense 
and  undying,  yet  compressed  and  death-stricken,  Heart 
not  of  Jesus  alone  in  the  flesh,  but  Heai't  of  the  entire 
Church,  Heart  of  the  Universe,  beating  still,  in  bliss- 
ful  throbs,  the  hours  and  the  minutes,  nay,  the  instants, 
of  forgiveness,  of  grace,  of  salvation  to  earth,  of  joy, 
and  beatitude,  and  ecstasy  to  heaven  1  we  salute  Thee 
in  homage,  we  worship  Thee  in  adoration,  we  entreat 
Thee  suppliant  I  Take  to  Thyself,  in  tender  embrace, 
the  children  of  Thy  poor  in  this  city,  where  light  is 
the  most  brilliant,  and  darkness  the  most  deep;  where 


prfwi  eh^tf- 

1(1  to  you— 

r  child  tbit 

unciiflce,  I 

ly  mine,  to 

m  it«  Good 
r  will  it  b« 
on  to  His 
and  then  it 
cy  that  pnr- 
,  sftvo  i"  His 
ace  th«  child 
the  adornblu 
iwl  din  cun 
is  refuge,  his 
jirant  garden, 
iliHe,  hi«  gate 
Id,  his  balm, 
reshment,  his 

■ 

ove  immense 
tricken.  Heart 
1  of  the  entire 
still,  in  bliss- 
r,  the  instants, 
earth,  of  joy, 
re  salute  Thee 
)u,  we  entreat 
nder  embrace, 
(vhere  light  is 
t  deep ;  whero 


nil  rOBTr  UOUtta'  AOORAIIU.f,  KTO. 


41H 


strength  and  weakness,  lift'  and  death,  all  exceum's  of 
good  and  evil,  virtue  and  vic(«,  vn'Mtle  an  no  wluM-e 
eltp,  for  the  nui>»t«'ry  of  Tliy  lovt»l  oni')*,  and  tiio  do- 
struction  of  Tliy  Churcli'w  liopt-ft.  ShioM  and  liaiboi 
them,  foed  and  Htri'ngth«'n  them  ;  for  power  and  uhuu* 
dance  are  laid  up  in  Thee,  O  great  and  admirable 
Heart!  If  uut,  how  would  the  world  have  loii  r«>- 
deemed  ?  But  be  it  our  honor  and  our  nuTit,  that 
Thou  receive  them  from  us.  We  will  snatch  tlu-m  up 
from  tlu'ir  dereliction,  wo  will  break  their  snares,  wo 
will  rescue  them  from  the  wicked  fowlern  who  are 
spreading  nets  on  every  side;  and  wo  will  consign 
them  to  that  happy  embrnce,  which  joins  heart  to 
heart,  the  weak,  fluttering,  treml)ling  heart,  to  the 
noble,  the  impregnable,  and  yet  most  sweet  and  ten- 
der of  heart* : — to  Thine,  O  Jesus  I 


No.  VI. 

p^titutlott  0i  the  ^oi1)t  Souris'  ^dorntiott  o(  our  ^ot& 
ia  the  '^ImtA  OfurUnri^t,  1840. 

If  the  rule  of  the  Christian  fast  is  that  prescribed 
by  our  blessed  Lord,  not  to  be  "as  the  hypocrites,  sad" 
(Matt.  vi.  16),  the  Church  will  not  fail  to  provide  you, 
during  this  holy  season  of  fasting,  the  means  and  mo- 
tives of  spiritual  joy.  She  will  associate  with  the 
hard,  but  consoling,  task  of  imitating  our  divine  Re- 
deemer, in  the  practice  of  His  virtues,  that  devotion 
towards  Him  in  His  adorable  humanity,  which  more 


I 


I 


inzi^iu.-  ir- 


] 


1 


414    INSTITUTION  OF  THE  FORTY  IlOUKs'  ADORATION 

than  any  other  poura  the  unction  of  gladness  (P«.  xHv. 
8)  over  the  soul,  and  makes  the  spirit  to  exult  in  God 
its  Saviour  (Luke,  i.  47.)     Yea,  beloved  in  the  Lord, 
on  her  behalf,  and  through  the  Divine  mercy,  we  have 
thought  it  our  duty  to  provide  for  you,  during  this 
season  of  mourning,  an  unfailing  source  of  consolation, 
of  grace,  of  devotion,  and  of  love.    We  have,  therefore, 
80  disposed,  as  that  throughout  the  whole  of  Lent,  the 
Most  Blessed  Sacrament  shall  remain  exposed  in  one 
or  other  of  the  public  churches  or  chapels  of  this  me- 
tropolis,  so  that  every  day  it  may  be  in  each  one's 
power,  not  only  to  assist  at  a  solemn  service  of  the 
Church,  but,  at  whatever  time  he  choses,  to  pour  out 
his  affections  at  the  feet  <>f  his  Saviour.    And  we 
doubt  not  that  every  one  will  gladly  seize  any  moment 
of  leisure,  to  pay  his  tribute  of  homage  to  Him,  at 
that  particular  place,  where  on  each  day  He  shall  be 
more  especially  honored. 

And,  as  this  devotion,  called  the  Forty  Hours'  Ex- 
position of  the  Blessed  Sacrament,  is  as  yet  but  little 
known  in  this  country,  we  will  proceed,  in  a  few 
words  to  explain  it;  promising  no  more  of  its  history 
than  to  say,  that  it  was  firat  instituted  at  Milan  in 
1534,  that  it  was  thence  introduced  into  Rome,  through 
the  instrumentality  of  its  great  modern  Apostle,  the 
holy  St.  Philip  Neii,  and  was  formally  sanctioned  by 
Pope  Clement  VHL  in  1592,  in  consequence,  as  he 
says  of  the  troubled  state  of  Christendom,  and  the 
sufferings  of  the  Church.  (Racolta  di  Orazioni,  &c. 
Rome. -841,  p.  181.) 

As  a  condition  of  the  Incarnation  of  the  \Vord,  an 
exchange  was  made,  not  unequal,  between  earth  and 


HATIOW 

'88  (Ps.  Xliv. 

xult  in  God 
1  the  Lord, 
•cy,  we  have 
during  this 
consolation, 
'6,  therefore, 
of  Lent,  the 
>osed  in  one 
I  of  this  me- 
1  each  one's 
rvice  of  the 
to  pour  out 
r.    And  we 
any  moment 
B  to  Him,  at 
He  shall  be 

y  Hours'  Ex- 

yet  but  little 
jd,  in  a  few 
of  its  history 

at  Milan  in 
ome,  through 

Apostle,  the 
(auctioned  by 
luence,  as  he 
lom,  and  the 
Orazioni,  <fec. 

the  Word,  an 
ten  earth  and 


OF  OUtt  LORD  IN  THE  BLESSED  EUCHARIST,  1849.     415 

Heaven.  We  gave  to  it  not  only  the  spirits  of  the 
just  made  peifect,  in  the  glorious  choir  of  saints  who 
fill  the  seats  of  fallen  angels,  but,  in  anticipation  of  the 
resurrection,  one  precious  instalment  of  humanity 
glorified,  in  Her  the  spotless,  who  rules  in  the  very 
body,  over  the  hosts  of  angels,  as  their  queen.  But 
even  higher  this  our  flesh  has  penetrated,  yea  into  the 
very  sanctuary  of  God's  light  inaccessible.  For  in  the 
very  midst  and  centre  of  that  dazzling  radiance,  towards 
which  blissful  spirits  bend  gazing  and  adoring,  is  to  be 
seen  the  gentle  "  likeness  of  the  Son  of  Man"  ( Apoc.  i. 
13)  in  all  things  resembling  us.  And  in  return,  heav- 
en has  bestowed  on  earth,  not  merely  communion 
between  us,  and  its  happy  citizens,  but  the  permanent 
dwelling  of  God  among  us,  who,  under  the  name  of 
the  Emanuel,  or,  "  God  with  us,"  lives  ever  in  the 
midst  of  His  Church,  to  be  the  direct  object  of  our 
adoration  and  love. 

And  so  it  comes,  dearly  beloved,  that  Heaven  wor- 
ships now  the  nature  of  man  indivisibly  united  with 
the  Godhead,  and  Earth  adores  the  Deity,  joined  in- 
separably to  our  humanity,  in  the  Person  of  the  incar- 
nate Woi'd.  Hence  is  our  worship  and  theirs  but  one ; 
one  in  object,  one  in  value,  one  in  sentiment,  one,  if 
possible,  in  form.  For  so  identical  throughout  this 
communion  of  saints,  is  the  essence  of  divine  worship, 
that  the  very  mode  of  its  performance  necessarily  be- 
comes similar,  not  to  say  one.  So  that  in  reading  the 
glorious  visions  of  Heaven's  sanctuary,  thrown  open  to 
St.  John,  it  becomes  difficult  to  determine,  whether  he 
there  beheld  counterparts  to  what  the  Church  had 
already  instituted  upon  earth,  or  types  which  served 


^Omm 


JWBTrrUTION  OF  THK  FORTY  HOURS   ADORATION     416 

lier  under  apostolic  guidance,  for  the  framing  of  her 
ritual.  But  rather  would  we  say  that  the  same  divine 
.  instinct  guided  both :  and  taught  angels  in  Heaven, 
and  saints  on  earth,  to  adore  and  to  love  with  the 
same  outward  expression.  And  so  the  whole  forms 
but  one  Church,  and  one  woi-ship.  There  is  one  altar 
in  both,  beneath  which  the  slain  for  Christ  rest,  and 
on  which  the  same  Victim-Lamb  reposes ;  one  censer 
from  which  prayer  rises  fragrant,  from  minister's  to 
angel's  hand ;  one  bench  of  venerable  elders,  that  sit  or 
fall  prostrate  in  rich  array  around;  one  choir,  one 
song,  one  voice,  one  heart,  one  life. 

In  one  only  respect  would  these  services  appear  to 
differ :  that  theii-s  is  perpetual,  uninterrupted,  unceas- 
ing;  that  the  thrice-repeated  "Holy"   echoes  ever 
through  those  golden  vaults,  while  we,  only  at  brief 
and  distant  periods,  can  unite  in  formal  worship.    But 
even  here  the  Spouse  of  Christ  on  earth  would  not  be 
outdone;  and  wishful  to  rival  the  very  deathless  and 
sleepless  watchfulness  of  those  eyes,  that  sparkle  all 
over  the  Cherubim  round  the  Throne  of  God  (Apoc. 
iv.  6),  she  has  instituted  at  different  periods  modes  of 
imitating  the  unfailing  worship  of  Heaven.    In  early 
ages  she  taught  her  religious  in  desert  and  in  monas- 
tery, to  divide  themselves  into  choire,  that  day  and 
night  kept  up  the  praises  of  God  in  uninterrupted 
psalmody ;  and  in  our  days  (O  happy  and  heavenly 
thought  I)  she  has  instituted  this  perpetual  adoration 
of  the  Blessed  Eucharist,  of  Him  whom  in  Heaven 
they  so  worship,  with  us  present  as  truly  as  with  them. 
This  it  is,  dearly  beloved,  that  we  are  going  to  intio- 
duce  among  you. 


%«««£. 


»i»iiiii<-mi'i>i.i»-1ii 


III  f^w^JktUmtimAMt 


■IfakI 


IWWIIl'JH       - 


.TION     416 

lug  of  her 
line  divine 
I  Heaven, 
I  with  the 
lole  forms 
)  one  altar 
b  rest,  and 
jne  censer 
nister'a  to 
that  sit  or 
choir,  one 

appear  to 
ed,  unceaa- 
shoes  ever 
ly  at  brief 
ship.  But 
uld  not  be 
thless  and 
sparkle  all 
lod  (Apoc. 
3  modes  of 
,    In  early 

in  monas- 
it  day  and 
interrupted 
i  heavenly 
il  adoration 
in  Heaven 
with  them, 
ig  to  inti'o* 


OF  OUR  LORD  IN  THE  DLK88ED  EUCnARWT,  '840.     117 

But  it  is  not  your  Saviour,  "as  the  hidden  Mnnna" 
(Apoc.  ii.  11)  of  which  you  partake,  that  you  have 
here  to  reverence  and  love ;  it  is  your  Lord,  your  God, 
triumphant  over  death  for  you,  yet  shrouding  from  you 
His  ovei'powering  glory,  to  whom  you  Live  to  pay 
your  open  and  solemn  homage ; — not  ensLriued  in  His 
poor  tabernacle,  where,  because  unseen.  He  is  often 
wnhonored,  but  enthroned,  as  in  Heaven,  above  His 
own  altar,  Lord  of  His  own  Sanctuary,  centre  of  all 
surrounding  splendor,  challenging,  with  love,  deep  ad- 
oration. Around  Him  shall  flame  the  hallowed  tapers, 
by  whose  pure  ray  the  Church  symbolizes,  however 
feebly,  the  bright  spirits  that  shine  around  His  heav- 
enly throne.  At  His  feet  earth  shall  scatter  its 
choicest  flowers,  as  its  grateful  tribute  to  Him  that 
bloomed  so  fair  from  Jesse's  root.  (Isai.  xi.  1.)  On 
all  sides  shall  bo  arrayed  whatever  of  richness  and 
splendor  our  poverty  can  collect,  to  adorn  the  chosen 
abode  of  Him,  who  hath  said :  "  the  silver  is  :  jino  and 
the  gold  is  mine"  (Aggeus,  ii.  9),  and  does  not  disdain 
any  manifestation  of  our  reverence.  Hasten  then, 
dearly  beloved,  to  bring  whatever  may  be  necessary 
to  enrich  the  solemnity  of  that  happy  day,  when  your 
Lord,  in  His  kingly  progress,  shall  visit  your  own 
temple,  saying,  "  I  will  fill  tJiis  house  with  glory"  (lb. 
8),  and,  whether  it  be  splendid  or  lowly,  shall  there 
abide  in  special  state.  Give  proof  to  all  that  come 
there  to  visit  Him,  that  you  prize,  you  cherbh,  you 
love  this  privilege  whicli  He  bestows ;  and  that,  like 
Solomon  and  the  people  of  Israel,  you  have  "gladly 
offered  all  these  things"  (1  Paral.  xxix.  17)  which  are 
requisite  to  its  becoming,  and  even  splendid,  enjoy* 

27 


mm 


418   INSTlTUTIOJr  OF  TlIK  FORTY  IIOUKS'  ADORATIOK 

ment.  And  "  presently  the  Lord  whom  you  seek,  nnd 
the  ftogel  of  the  testament  whom  you  desire,  shall 
come  to  His  temple."   (Malachi,  iii.  1.) 

Oh  1  then,  go  forth  with  joyful  hearts,  to  meet  and 
welcome  Him ;  and  leave  Him  not  alone,  so  long  as 
He  shall  condescend  to  dwell  in  the  midst  of  you. 
From  that  lofty  mercy-seat  whereon  He  hath  1  ieu 
placed,  from  that  bright  radiance  in  the  mid^^.  of 
which,  as  a  peerless  nnd  priceless  gem.  He  hath  been 
set — beauty  Himself,  essential  Liglit,  and  mr.tchless 
Splendor^ thei  !  go  forth  on  every  side,  not  scorching 
rays  of  glory,  not  burning  shafts  of  might,  but  a  mild 
and  constant  flow  of  holiness  and  grace,  which  fills 
the  entire  space  from  roof  to  pavement,  with  the  very 
breath  and  air  of  Heaven.  Silent  n-  1  soft,  as  wave 
impelling  wave  of  fragrance,  goes  forth,  and  diffuses 
itself  around,  that  savor  of  sweetness,  that  balm  of 
life,  that  virtue  which,  emanating  from  the  sacred 
humanity  of  Jesus  upon  earth,  healed  all  diseases. 
(Luke,  viii.  46.)  And  from  the  threshold  of  this.  His 
palace,  now,  no  less  than  His  temple,  it  will  pass 
abroad,  and  spread  itself  on  all  sides,  till  it  reach  your 
dwellings;  and,  more  powerful  than  that  blessing 
which  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant  (type,  whereof  you 
now  possess  the  reality)  shed  over  the  house  of  Obe- 
dedom  (2  Reg.  vi.  12),  it  will  impart  to  them  peace 
and  grace,  and  welfare  spiritual  and  temporal.  "  I 
will  fill  this  house  with  glory,  saith  the  Lord  of 
Hosts  ...  and  in  this  place  I  will  give  peace, 
said  the  Lord  of  Hosts."    (Ag.  ii.  10.) 

But  now  it  is  that  you  will  practice  that  angelic 
worship,  lost  and  unknown  out  of  the  Catholic  Church, 


JL 


;ATioir 


OF  OUR  LORD  IN  Til?:  BLESSED  EUCIIAHKT,  1840.      410 


a  seek,  nnd 
esire,  sliall 

>  meet  and 
so  long  as 
Ist  of  you. 
hath  ^'!eu 

I  inidsM  of 
hath  been 
matchless 

b  scorching 
but  a  mild 
which  fills 
h  the  very 
ft,  as  wave 
nu  diffuses 
it  balm  of 
the  sacred 

II  diseases, 
of  this,  His 
\,  will  pass 
reach  your 
it  blessing 
hereof  you 
use  of  Obe- 
;hem  peace 
iporal.  "  I 
le  Lord  of 
give  peace, 

hat  angelic 
>lic  Church, 


the  worship  of  pure  adoration.  For,  beyond  her  pnle, 
men  may  praise  God,  or  address  Him,  or  perform  other 
religious  acts,  but  they  cannot  know  nor  make  that 
special  homage  which  His  presence,  ns  we  possess  it, 
inspires ;  when,  without  word  spoken,  or  sound  ut- 
tered, or  act  performed,  the  soul  sinks  prostrate,  and 
annihilates  itself  before  Him,  casts  all  its  powei-s,  and 
gifts,  and  bnghtest  ornaments,  as  worthless  oblations, 
before  His  altar,  and  subjects  its  entire  being  as  a 
victim  to  His  sole  adorable  will.  When  first,  then, 
you  approach  the  place  where  He  is  solemnly  wor- 
shipped, as  you  'hunibly  bend  your  knees,  and  bow 
your  heads,  let  this  deep  and  silent  adoration  be  your 
first  act.  Speak  not  in  words,  forget  all  selfish 
thoughts,  repress  even  all  eager  longings  of  your 
hearts ;  and  receive  the  benediction  of  your  mighty 
Lord  in  solemn  stillness ;  while  i  ou  reputing  your- 
selves but^^  dust  and  ashes  at  His  feet,  a  nothingness 
before  Him,  tender  Him  the  homage  of  loyal  vassals, 
humbled  as  the  clay  before  the  potter  (Isai.  xxix.  16), 
as  the  creature  before  its  God.  Then  raise  up  your 
eyes,  those  keen  eyes  of  Faith,  which,  through  the 
veil  of  sacramental  elements,  see,  as  John  did,  "  in  the 
midst  of  the  seven  golden  candlesticks,  one  like  to  the 
Son  of  Man"  (Apoc.  i.  13);  yea,  the  adorable  Jesus, 
the  king  of  your  souls,  and  there  feaat  long  your  sight 
upon  that  sacred  Humanity  which  love  hath  given 
Him,  and  with  it  kindred  and  brotherhood,  and  ties  of 
tenderest  affection  with  yon.  And  now  speak  to  Him, 
but  with  outpoured  souls,  with  the  unrestrained  famili- 
arity of  warmest  friendship,  face  to  face — no  longer 
with  the  awful  Lord,  like  Moses  or  Elias  on  Horeb 


-mmmlt^^ 


r* 


420  iNflTiTunoif  or  tub  roitxr  hours'  adouation 

(Exod.  xxxiii.  11;  3  Hep.  xix.  11),  but  with  them, 
and  Peter,  and  John  on  '  (Ps.  cxxxi.  7),  u he,e 

you  see  Him  radiant  wii       ua  own  light,  but  unid 
and  inviting  love. 

Pray  to  Him  now  for  your  own  salvation  and  for 
that  of  all  mankind.  Pray  for  the  exaltation  of  His 
holy  Church,  for  the  happiness  and  prosperity  of  the 
supreme  pastor,  our  holy  and  afflicted  Pontiflf.  Pray 
for  the  propagation  of  the  true  faith,  and  the  conver- 
sion of  all  in  error,  and  especially  of  our  own  dear 
country.  Pray  that  God  will  mercifully  remove  from 
us  the  scourges  and  judgments  which  we  have  de- 
served by  our  sins,  and  remember  no  longer  our 
offences,  nor  those  of  our  parents,  but  rather  show  ua 
mercy,  and  give  to  us  His  good  gifts,  but  principally 
His  grace,  holiness  of  life,  and  perseverance  in  His 

divine  service. 

And  then,  oh  I  never  think  of  rising  from  before 
Him  without  thanking  Him  from  your  hearts  for  this 
miraculous  institution  of  llis  power  and  goodness, 
this  sweetest  pledge  of  His  love.     Adore  Him  now 
again  as  the  Treasure  of  your  souls,  the  Food  of  life, 
the  living  Bread  that  cometh  down  from  Heaven, 
your  Consoler,  your  Strengthener,  your  surest  Hope 
in  life  and  death.     Speak  to  Him  of  the  kindness,  of 
the    self-abasement,    of  the   immense   condescension 
which  He  here  exhibits ;  of  the  untiring  affection  for 
poor  man  which  He  displays,  in  bearing  with  so  much 
coldneas,  ingratitude,  and  even  sacrilege,  as  this  blessed 
memorial  of  His  death  exposes  Him  to;  of  the  still 
more  incomprehensible  excess  of  love,  which  makes 
Him  cummuuicate  Himself  daily  to  us,  frail  and  smful 


TION 


or  OUn  LORD  in  the  BLESHED  EUCHARIST,  1810.      4'il 


th  them, 
7),  where 
but  liiiid 

I  and  for 
)n  of  Hi3 
ity  of  the 
iff.  Pnvy 
le  conver- 
own  dear 
love  from 
have  de- 
)nger  our 
r  show  ua 
)rincipally 
ce  iu  His 

Dm  before 
•t3  for  this 
goodness, 
Him  now 
)od  of  life, 
a  Heaven, 
rest  Hope 
lindness,  of 
idescension 
ffection  for 
ih  80  much 
this  blessed 
3f  the  still 
lich  makes 
I  and  sinful 


creatures,  as  our  food,  and  thus  brings  our  very  hearts 
and  souls  into  contact  with  His  I  And  offer  Him  your 
humble  tribute  of  reverence  and  love,  in  reparation 
and  atonement  for  those  scoffs,  contradictions  and  blas- 
phemies to  which  He  has  long  been,  and  is  daily,  sub- 
ject in, his  adorable  Sacrament,  and  nowhere  so  much 
as  in  this  unbelieving  land. 

But,  dearly  beloved  in  Christ,  confine  not  your  de- 
votion to  the  time  when  the  opportunity  for  this 
heavenly  act  of  woi-ship  shall  come  to  your  very  doors. 
Say  rather,  "  we  will  go  into  His  tabernacle,  we  will 
adore  in  the  place  where  His  feet  have  stood."  (Pa. 
cxxxi.  7.)  Make  this,  if  possible,  a  daily  devotion 
throughout  the  Lent — this  daily  worship  of  your  di- 
vine Saviour  iu  His  Blessed  Eucharist.  Fear  not  to 
penetrate  where  His  humbler  temples  stand  in  the 
midst  of  His  poor ;  let  your  faith  guide  you  beyond 
the  range  of  your  ordinary  occupation,  and  the  beat 
of  worldly  recreations,  holding  that  spot  to  be  the 
most  noble,  the  most  sacred,  and  the  most  highly  j)ri. 
vileged,  for  the  time,  in  which  He  is  manifested  to  be 
publicly  adored. 


THE  XKD. 


«iiT  ,ii'iniiiii).iia««jatBJigB>MM 


R^SI 


'wssssKi^ 


